Freestyler
by daybreaks
Summary: When Hitsugaya arrives at an old training ground, the last thing he expects to find is a dancer in midflight. Set between arcs, this isn't the story of how she lost her powers. It's how he got them back.
1. Prologue: Silent Witness

For some reason, this needed to be written. I thought Hitsugaya and Rukia would make an interesting combination to meddle with.

Leave a review, perhaps, and spare me a thought?

...And don't ask about the random dashes as page breaks. They just 'needed' to be in there.

* * *

**Freestyler**

Prologue: Silent Witness

* * *

Somewhere, in the outskirts of Sereitei, there is a field.

Since last week it's been long frozen over by frost and snow, haunted day and night by a group of howling, wailing winds.

Since last week, it's been devoid of all life.

Anything once living is now either dead or asleep, hibernating until spring. Both the birds and the plants and the leaves of the surrounding forest trees are gone. The color green is gone.

The color green is _forgotten._

And for one season of the year it transforms into a crystalline wonderland whose only defining features are of the sheer white of the ground below, the stark black of the circling barren trees and the frigid powder blues of the sky above.

Since last week the field's made it pretty clear that it's no longer autumn.

_(Hitsugaya Toshiro is pretty sure he'll be alone in finding it)_

_._

It's just a simple forest clearing but it's far away enough from everything to make it secluded, yet close enough to everything to make it accessible to the likes of him.

He doesn't come here often, or as often as he did, because in between becoming a Captain of the 10th Division and all the extra responsibilities involved, there's very little time for anything other than doing paperwork, slaying Hollows, keeping Matsumoto under control and doing _more_ paperwork.

He's hoping to fit in a few hours here by himself before he has to go and meet that Kuchiki shinigami from the 13th division that Ukitake wants so badly to have mentored- the shinigami who was nearly executed, who was saved by ryoka of all people… the shinigami who's been the focus of all the drama from both the past few days and months.

Frankly, he's not looking forward to it.

But it doesn't matter now because he's just about there and going to be free from everyone and everything for a few precious moments, if not more. He's tramping through the last straggling bunch of trees when he reaches the clearing and sees something, someone, that catches him totally by surprise (and at that, slightly ticks him off).

_(He's just realized that his favorite training ground is not just his and his alone anymore)_

_._

There's another shinigami (an intruder almost) standing in _his _place in the middle of _his_ field. She's slender, short and pale skinned. She's clad only in her uniform: a black hakama and kosode and nothing else- surprising, especially in this freezing cold weather. Her reiatsu levels are so low that he can hardly sense her even at this distance- which to an extent, is even more surprising than the former.

She's down on one knee, her back towards him, hands pressed onto her upright leg, head bowed as if meditating. She stays like this: unmoving, unchanging- looking almost like a marble statue swathed in a bit of black cloth. She looks oddly familiar yet he can't place his finger on where he knows her from.

_(And then, her reiatsu starts to spike)_

_._

The slight, tingling sense of only moments before is replaced by a thunder clap, a burst of energy that blasts out through the clearing and shakes him to the very core. At this, Hyorinmaru starts to stir within him and he's about to take a step forward, open his mouth to speak, do something-

When she's suddenly standing and then in less than a blink of an eye is M_ovingSpinningSlidingGliding _and is wonderfully, fearfully, _alive._

Her feet start to tap to some unknown rhythm and there's no sun in the sky, or cloud, or anything and yet her hands still raise high above her head as if reaching for something or someone.

There's no music he can hear, no sound except the wind and the swing of her hair and the flap of her black crow-like, wing-like robes.

_(He vaguely begins to feels that he, not she is the intruder in this forsaken place.)_

_._

After a few moments he slowly realizes that a sword has been added to the mix, but he cannot remember when or how it happened.

_(…But It's almost as if it had been there all along, hasn't it?)_

_._

It's pure white, like the color of snow when it first falls and attached is a magnificently long ivory ribbon that billows out and accentuates every step, every twirl and every leap she does. There's a breathtaking sense of reckless abandon in how she moves, a type of wild passion that seems defy her very being of a shinigami- a life which seems to revolve around and hide behind codes and rules and regulations and honor binding oaths.

_(He can't move, he can't speak, he can barely even breathe)_

_._

Snow and sleet are beginning to spray out from under her, coaxed on by her relentless feet, and he's almost certain that with every pirouette she makes and every twist of her blade, ice is forming in a circle around her and shards are being sent flying _everywhere_.

She pauses momentarily, turning to face him, spreading her arms wide-

And his blood runs cold.

It's _Kuchiki._

_Kuchiki _Rukia.

.

All of a sudden, (as if she sensed him) the spell is broken- sword gone, feet stopped, eyes abruptly opened.

Wide violet eyes meet wide turquoise eyes for one, brief moment.

And then she drops back down to one knee, her right hand on the ground in an effort to support herself. She's breathing hard now- exhaling, inhaling.

But then, her head bows (ironically, towards him) and her eyes close shut.

It's _almost_, as if nothing has happened.

_(But he knows better)_

.

Half of him feels very intent on getting the hell out of there, because somehow the intimacy of just even knowing her name seems so very wrong and disconcerting. The air is thick with something he can't define and he feels slightly guilty, as if he had just watched something forbidden. Sacred. Taboo.

_(It's as if he's just seen into the very depths of her _soul_)_

_._

From the little that he's seen of the shinigami, he's seen _nothing_ like this. She's meant to be demure and polite, with a manner that seems to suggest that she perpetually feels the need to apologize to you for just the simple act of _existing_.

_(… yet he's the opposite, and he's never even done _anything_ like what he's just seen her do)_

_._

Whether it's simply the attraction of his zanpakuto to another ice blade or just the bizarreness of the situation, he doesn't know… But _something_ is drawing him to her.

Taking a deep breath, he takes the first shaky step forward into the clearing.

_(…and decides to take a chance)_


	2. Collision Course

Thank you for everyone who's reviewed so far. : D You make me bubbly indeed, so my apologies for a rather belated update.

Hopefully you'll find this just as entertaining as the Prologue.

* * *

**Freestyler**

Chapter 1: Collision Course

* * *

Everything has gone silent.

There is no heartbeat, nor no steady breath of air to remind her that's she's somewhat, vaguely alive.

It's as if every sense in her body has disconnected and rendered itself comatose. She can hear nothing. Feel nothing. See nothing.

_Everything_ is still.

She's encased herself in a realm blacker than midnight and everything feels fine.

.

Slowly.

This is how she searches.

She's been drifting through the chasm of her mind for a long, long time now, continually slipping back and forth out of unconsciousness. It's something that should be as restful as sleeping, yet is spoiled by the slight, almost imperceptible anxiety that keeps nagging at her. She thinks it's almost like the calm before a storm, where the serenity you feel doesn't relax but instead discomforts.

So in the end Rukia feels neither content nor discontent but a little mix of in-betweens and has to settle for shrugging her shoulders on the issue.

.

She's been searching for her blade for what seems to be an eternity.

... Or at least, as long as she's known Ichigo.

It took only one, desperate, reckless move for her world to turn inside out, upside down and Rukia knows she's never regretted it. But, never the less her heart has been mourning, weeping, _bleeding_ for its missing piece ever since that night… and even she can't deny such a pressing problem.

She's almost certain that all her powers are somewhere within her- after all, she can kido now, and that must say something… right?

.

So she has collapsed herself into a state of almost oblivion, prodding through every depth and corner of her mind. Once in a while, she comes across tendrils of reiatsu. Wispy blue bits of lightning that skitter past her, crackling and sparking.

But there is _never_, any sight of snow. Nor ice. Nor anything _remotely_ cold.

Yet whether Shirayuki is being evasive, captive or just simply _not there_, Rukia cannot tell.

She isn't really sure whether she wants to find out, either.

.

But now, _something_ is appearing.

She doesn't see it at first. She feels it- a numbingly cold shock to the bone that manages to send her heartbeat drumming against her chest in a bit of dreaded anticipation.

And then it comes.

_It comes._

So vividly white, it's almost blinding to watch, so achingly close she can nearly reach out and touch it. _Nearly_.

This has to be it. This has to be _her_. This has to be-

.

And then there's a rustle of cloth and a scuffle of feet and it's _all over_ as the trance is unceremoniously broken, splashing harsh daylight into Rukia's blinking eyes. Caught off-guard, she teeters and then falls over onto the ground.

Slightly dazed, she stares at the feet that have appeared before her.

.

All at once it starts to click and her body starts to jump start, senses ablaze.

Think. Feel. Smell. Hear. Touch. Taste. See. _Sigh_.

The world is suddenly back in high-definition, overwhelming detail and Rukia feels terribly, terribly _upset_.

.

"What the hell was that for?"

The words tumble out of her mouth coarse and furious and something inside of Rukia recoils, appalled.

But it's too late now. The complete mess of stress and emotions in her heart, bottled up from the past couple of weeks is coming out and it is coming out _now_. Unsteadily she stands, shaking snow from her hair and continues her tirade.

"Who in their right minds does that? You pushed me, didn't you? Or touched me, or something- I lost focus completely! Was it not even slightly obvious as to what I was doing just now? Hmm? Hmm?

Testily, she closes the small gap between her and her intruder and takes a violent fistful of his robes.

"I nearly- I nearly, had her! It should have been clear," and at this Rukia's eyes narrow into slits, "that I came to be alone- peace and quiet, it wasn't a lot to ask for, was it? I'm in the middle of a forest!"

She swings one arm out in a wild, wide gesture and glances around. The area is completely deserted. She came so excruciatingly close and she is not going to give up the topic easily. Steeling herself, Rukia trains her eyes back onto her target.

"Yet some kind of deranged moron still somehow manages to find me and has the most pathetic need to gawk at me from point blank range!"

"What," she grits out, slowly, "Is. Wrong. With. You."

Her face is flushed red by now, and her breathing has quickened to the point that she's exhaling it in quick, hot, angry gasps. She glares at him, pulling him forward so that they're face to face, eye to eye, studying him, wondering, who on earth would have the gall to-

Rukia blinks.

White hair. Short. Green eyes. White haori over black robes.

At this, her stomach gives a particularly nasty twist.

It's Captain Hitsugaya Toshiro from the 10th Division.

_Captain_ Hitsugaya Toshiro.

In front of her, in the flesh, looking just as shocked as she is at her behavior. Captain Hitsugaya Toshiro, whose own _ice zanpakutou_ is meant to be the most powerful of its type in the whole of Sereitei.

An _ice_ zanpakutou.

(so blindingly _white_, filled with so much reiatsu that she'd be a fool not to sense it)

_She has been tricked._

.

For a moment, she kind of just stares, dumbstruck at him.

And then instantly regrets everything she's just said.

The vivacious energy of only moments before drains from her face, leaving it ashen and pale. Limply, she drops her fist from his clothes and her entire body slumps.

If only the earth would swallow her whole! Behaving like this in front of a captain? But what right did anyone-

She still shouldn't have lashed out like that- But she was _so_ close.

Rukia's fist clench and then relax in quick succession twice.

She can't think of anything to say. What an first impression to make- isn't he going to be a temporary instructor for her?

But what is he-

She's _never_ lashed out like that at _anyone_ in ages.

* * *

This is not a situation Hitsugaya particularly wants to be in.

It's not a situation he thought he would be in, either.

How stupid he was- what did he think he was going to accomplish doing this? Reasons are far from forthcoming. His feet just moved, a far cry from the calculated rational he normally has.

But he hasn't really done anything. Has he?

She was the one flying all the place. Now, she's entirely different.

He's trying to comprehend all the different facets he's now seen this shinigami exude and vaguely wonders whether he's actually ready to be invested _this_ much into her just yet. He has no idea of what he's meant to say. He isn't good at these type of things.

It makes him feel awkward, and unconfident.

Back in the early days, the days of the academy, he remembers solemnly locking such things away deep into his heart. Sometimes Hinamori finds a way in. But, as he tells himself a little bitterly- it's been quite a while since Hinamori's even been awake.

But now the door has been opened to all of these stupid, clumsy emotions… and as fate would have it- it's opened to a complete and utter stranger.

He's in very foreign territory and there's no going back.

.

So Hitsugaya says the first thing that comes to mind.

… Or rather does the first thing that comes to mind.

He takes a step back and draws Hyorinmaru out from behind his back. It's instinctive and even primitive perhaps, but this is all he knows.

The temperature around him starts to drop rapidly.

.

"Hitsugaya Toshiro. 10th Division Captain. I'm here as both a fellow ice zanpakutou user and instructor for you."

He lowers his blade at her, decidedly ignoring the fact that frost that has started to creep around both their feet.

"Training starts now."

Jade eyes turn to ice.

He manages to look her steadily in the eyes.

"Draw your sword."

* * *

Rukia's head snaps up and confusion floods her features.

She examines him and forgets all her drilled in apologies and polite conduct when realizes that he is in fact, very, very serious.

"… W-what?" she finally splutters out.

She takes a precautionary step backwards, holding up her hands in an attempt to placate and slow the shinigami's actions.

But he's relentless.

"Draw your sword, Kuchiki. Your zanpakutou."

At this, Rukia feels baffled. Does he not know anything?

She would have thought that Ukitake-taichou would have told him the basics about her circumstances, at the very least. She knows there is to be a meeting between them today, but that is only set for the later afternoon.

Glancing up at the sky, she frowns. It isn't even midday.

What's going on?

.

She remains motionless, unwilling to took action and feels some relief when she sees his brow finally flurror and his gaurd lower- slightly.

"I know you've lost your powers," he replies, sounding slightly irritated, "But I'm not asking for much. Use your zankpakutou. It'll be a plain and simple sword fight."

Rukia stares at him in shock. It's as if he's just completely disregarded the fact that she just blew up at him a minute ago. It's so blatant it almost seems deliberate.

Bewildered, she shakes her head.

"Taicho," she says, pointedly, slowly, painfully, clearly. "I don't _have_ my zanpakutou."

(and even if she did... what would fighting solve?)

There's a moment of incomprehension before his eyebrow's shoot up and Hitsugaya drops his guard completely. She sees her own confusion mirrored upon his face and Rukia isn't sure of how to feel at all.

.

"I saw you," and at this his voice starts to turn hoarse, "Out here. Just before."

He glances around and it's almost as if he's seeing things- reliving things. Rukia follows his eyes but sees nothing but snow and sleet and a surrounding stretch of barren trees.

It's almost as he's rambling, but there's a certain note of panic and a strange, raw emotion in his voice that Rukia cannot make herself turn away from. If he's only a polite acquaintance, why does he now talk as if he's become the keeper of all her secrets?

"You were in a trace," is what he barely manages to say.

He says it as if it should really mean something to her.

"I was," she agrees.

It lacks conviction though, and Hitsugaya doesn't seem satisfied with it either. The grip on his sword tightens, as well as his jaw.

"You had your zankpakutou," he says, slightly desperately now, "and you were moving around. You- You were-

His right arm gestures weakly, makes incoherent swings and jabs.

But Rukia has no more confirmation for him. She only can look and feel perplexed by now.

The captain pauses, and a maddened look almost enters his eyes. "You don't- you don't remember anything?"

Exasperated, Rukia, sighs and shakes her head. "I've been meditating out here for the past couple of hours. I was good as being dead to the world in that time span."

It's as if he wants _something _from her, but she doesn't know what it is. He looks every bit the part of a dying man who's just been denied food and water and _Rukia cannot help but feel guilty._

"You don't remember anything," he states flatly.

"Of what?" she raises her hands, a little frustratedly. "What's happened? I-"

But before she can finish, finish asking what exactly she's done and how and why and when, the shinigami swings his blade down in one, straight, forceful move and yells out in a cry of deep frustration.

The zankpakutou pierces the snow and all at once, all Rukia can think of is _ice_.

* * *

Everything is going _wrong._

Hyorinmaru doesn't sound too pleased either, this sudden and unexpected wrench from the zanpakutou's slumber. The entire field has turned a glacial pale, pale blue; ice forming a crystal dome around them. The air is suddenly alive, crackling with reiatsu.

How on earth could he have lost control- _just like that_.

Because she doesn't know, that's why. She doesn't know! He somehow believes this shinigami girl should know better than this. You can't do something like that and not remember- something has stirred within him, he can't seem to let it go.

She isn't meant to strike chords like _this_ in him. She isn't meant to know where this place is. She isn't meant to be here. She isn't meant to-

His mind is going round and round in circles, spinning, spinning, spinning…

Hitsugaya vaguely feels like he's been cheated.

.

"Taichou-"

Her voice breaks him out of his stupor and into realizing that Kuchiki Rukia is still here and alive and that her lips are turning blue and she is begining to shiver.

Immediately, irritated at his irresponsibility Hitsugaya disperses the ice he's created around them. The temperature goes up slightly, returning the color to her cheeks.

He steps forward and touches her shoulder gently.

"Hey, Kuchiki, you alright?"

She looks a little dumbstruck by his actions. He's a little dumbstruck as well- what posessed him to suddenly decide a spar, or throw his sword down on the ground, or even come here at all?

Kuchiki finally nods. He lets her shoulder go in relief.

The awkwardness grows. He can see the questions fighting to be spoken on her lips, but they never quite seem to come out. Hitsugaya is glad, because he doesn't want to answer them even he could. It's not his place... it's not his place at all.

...And now he has to step up and somehow make this work.

* * *

They stand there for a little while, before Hitsugaya finally sighs and sheathes his sword. He runs his hand through his hair.

"Meet me here tomorrow, at sunrise." His voice sounds tired, weary and defeated.

When he finally turns and stalks out of the clearing, he pauses- giving her one last, fleeting look before he disappears.

Rukia isn't sure who is the most confused out of them both.

* * *

I planned for a bit more to happen in this chapter, but I perhaps overdramatized everything, maybe? Look forward to an introduction of the rest of the characters I'm going to take for a spin next chapter. ^^

Thanks for the read, and I of course would adore any comments you can spare!


	3. Daybreak

Hah. I managed to evade my deadline goal once again! : D

Unfortunately for you, or fortunately- depending on how you look at it.

Thank you very, very much to all yous who have reviewed the story- every time you've dropped one in, it's just made my day. ^^

Anyhow, read on, and enjoy the product of all my scribbles on Microsoft Word! I would love a review, if you want to share your thoughts. Reviews are the new pink.

Btw, yes, Hitsugaya and Rukia are going to get out of the damned forest clearing soon.

* * *

**Freestyler**

**Chapter 2: Daybreak**

* * *

Morning comes way too soon.

The night was too short, the hours too few, the minutes too fast, the walk here too short. When Rukia arrives at the forest clearing the next day, she comes so very unprepared.

She looks around warily, carefully. However there is no one in sight.

_There is no one in sight._

She lets out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

.

Bending down, Rukia drops her water canteen onto the ground and scoops up a handful of snowflakes, holding them up to the awakening sun.

_Everything_ has been washed back to a sparkling pristine white.

No more is the glacial ice created from the thrust of Hitsugaya's sword, nor the scattered footprints and haphazard tracks through the frozen field from yesterday's escapades. Winter has come upon this place and decreed that nothing shall ever taint the snow.

_Everything _is the same as always.

Rukia muses wryly that yesterday might as well have not been, for all that it matters.

And then pauses.

It's _almost_, as if nothing has happened.

A sudden chill sweeps across her, and she clutches her arms together. The ground beneath her spins and she bites her lip, unnerved.

The feeling's very much akin to déjà vu.

.

She slowly trudges out into the open space, feet falling heavily into the snow.

Apprehension is pooling in her stomach, her heart is starting to beat faster and Rukia still has no idea why. Ever since yesterday she's felt offbeat and unbalanced as if something, somewhere has been set decidedly wrong.

She glances upwards. Sunlight has already started to streak itself in brilliant hues of red and orange across the sky. It's a dazzling display, but Rukia doesn't notice the beauty. She frowns instead.

_He_ isn't here yet.

Irked for reasons she can't quite identify, Rukia's brows furrow further. That captain better manage to turn up soon. The trees around her shiver in the morning breeze and she inhales the chill air deeply, closing her eyes.

_Breathe in, Breathe out._

Today is going to go as planned.

_Breathe in, Breathe out._

She's going to try and force herself to believe that.

.

She opens her eyes, slowly-

Only to hear a high whistling sound as metal cuts through air and watch a slender katana thud down before her feet. On reflex she jumps back, startled and immediately reaches towards her waist-

Before realizing that there is no sword there.

"Kuchiki."

Her head snaps up to find a pair of green eyes peering back down at her from aloft a high tree branch. Hitsugaya stands with folded arms; his back leaned casually against the tree trunk.

"You can use this as a temporary replacement for your zanpakutou," he says, nonchalantly, pausing before he adds, "You're late."

Rukia opens her mouth to apologize, but then realizes something that innately bothers her to the core. Her brow furrows.

"I saw no one in the clearing when I came… taichou. You were here before me!" She tries not to sound accusing, but the implied meaning slips out anyway.

_You were watching me._

It catches him totally off guard.

.

"You looked like you were meditating," he says hurriedly, before jumping down, landing mere _centimeters_ from her and then backpedaling a few good _meters._

He picks up the sword and holds it out towards her, hilt first, his head turned away. Even with his eyes averted, she can still see the slight pleading in them. It confuses her a little bit, because this is Hitsugaya Toshiro and Hitsugaya Toshiro does not back down.

Ever.

But the questions are straining, fighting within her- she tries to search his face for the answers and finds only an awkward silence in return. She wants to settle everything now, and now only. On the other hand, he looks like he'd rather never speak of the subject again.

It's a bit of an unsolvable problem, she thinks.

…

It seems she's been getting herself into quite a lot of them lately.

.

But she gives him the benefit of the doubt and tentatively steps forward, taking the hilt of the sword. The green eyes turn back towards her and she can see relief fill them.

It's not a truce- but it's the closest thing they'll get to having one for neither of them are ever going to give.

Yet Rukia smiles for one moment, and for one moment only.

It's enough for now.

* * *

As the dawn ascends slowly into midday, Hitsugaya sides step a swing from Kuchiki and ducks again as she makes another quick blow at him.

Thrust. Parry. Block. Spin. Strike. Duck.

He re-adjusts his hold on his own sword, and glances at the Kuchiki in front of him.

He pauses.

She's better than he thought she would be.

.

But better doesn't particular mean that she's a master swordsman, either.

He blocks another blow from her and returns it with one of his own, than another, and another.

The strain of fighting constantly is beginning to show in Kuchiki's face, her sword grip, her everything- not that he's surprised. She's been jailed up until only a few days ago with no exercise for a month. Added to her slim build and a lack of a lot of muscle tone, he can pretty much assume that her specialty is in Kido and _not_ in swordfighting.

.

She huffs and there's a flash of determination in her eyes.

His brows furrow.

He tries not to notice that she fights a bit (or, rather, a lot) like Hinamori.

His lips tighten, and Histugaya swoops close, clanging his sword against hers once again.

* * *

Rukia jumps backward and brushes the hair out of her eyes. She pants, gasping for air. It's been a long time since she's engaged in a decent sword fight, let alone be involved in strenuous exercise.

Hitsugaya is far from a lenient tutor, and he's relentless in every assault.

_Your posture is wrong. Look- your arms are too far from your body. Extend your sword, not your arms, Kuchiki! Keep your legs farther apart._

The orders go on and on and on. Once in a while there's a word of encouragement or a half-compliment.

But even so, he pushes a pretty fast pace.

.

There's little time to rest, and she's barely managing to keep up with him.

She knows he's meant to be a talented swordsman, and suspiciously wonders how easy he's going on her.

She's tired, breathless and she knows she's probably not going to best him.

But just moving like this feels good anyway.

.

In the mid morning sun they pause for a break.

Hitsugaya has just managed to snake his sword through her defenses and right onto her neck where she can feel her pulse _thumping, thumping_ against the metal tip of his katana. The captain holds the position for a second before drawing away.

"You let your guard down, that's all," he says, pointing to her flimsy grasp on her sword, "Eh. I think that's enough for now Kuchiki. Take a break."

_Finally._

Rukia heaves out a heavy breath, nodding before thrusting her sword into the snow, leaving it to stand upright. She walks back to the cover of trees, before leaning against a trunk and picking up her water canteen.

As she drinks, Rukia looks with slight envy back at Hitsugaya- there are no signs of fatigue for _him_. The shinigami only decides to sit down beside her, sword in his lap.

She pauses, before too sinking down onto the snow. The cold seeps immediately through her robes, soothing the bruises and soreness of battle. Snow's always had that affect on her; she supposes it's just part of her nature.

Rukia glances at Hitsugaya and wonders whether it's the same for him.

But she doesn't open her mouth.

The silence stretches on.

* * *

After a few minutes, Hitsugaya makes the first tentative stab at contact.

"How did you lose your zanpakutou?"

He tries to keep his voice controlled, cool, calm- but the question blurts out anyway. He almost wants to take it back, but doesn't.

His breath hitches and he decides not to look at her.

.

"A couple of months ago, in the living world."

Hitsugaya starts at the sound of her voice- it's serene, almost detached.

It's the complete opposite of what he expected.

But if she's not going to point out nor acknowledge the surprising lack in awkwardness…

Than neither is he.

* * *

So Rukia loses herself in the flow.

She tells him firstly, about Ichigo. About that lanky, tall, orange-haired almost-always-frowning boy. She tells him the facts first, of which she already knows, of Ichigo's immense spiritual power, his zanpakutou, his incredible stubborness.

And then stops, gathers breath, and tells Hitsugaya about _that night_.

.

That night, where everything just went wrong.

Where, suddenly there was a boy running at a hollow, with nothing to defend himself but a few bloody fists and feet. Where she'd jumped in front of him,and taken the blow meant for him. Death saving life, she points out wryly.

Hitsugaya's eyes are wide, so wide at this but Rukia ignores it and presses on.

She tells him of gut feelings, and desperation that ends up in a plan she doubts will even work. She tells him of the feeling of her zankpakutou slamming through her chest. She tells him of suddenly having almost nothing and _he_ then had almost her everything. She tells him how she has no regrets about that night.

And then stops.

Rukia refuses to think anymore, recollect anymore, after that.

After all, it still hurts.

* * *

Finally, Rukia speaks again.

When she does, she asks this: "How'd you first find your zanpakutou?"

It's question for question, and while Hitsugaya knows he can easily evade an answer, he chooses not to.

It surprises him in more ways than one.

.

When Hitsugaya starts talking, he's quiet.

But there's no embarrassment in his voice, no hesitation.

This is his life story. It's something only his grandmother, Matsumoto and Hinomori really know, for after all, they were a part of it. Hyorinmaru _was_ it.

Yet he does tell her about frozen over nightmares, his first meeting with Matsumoto, and his decision to become a Shinigami.

There's a lot of unnecessary things he tells her too, about long summer days, and snowball winters, and watermelons on a wood porch.

It's as if he has _owed _her something of himself since yesterday, and something within him is telling him that this is how he's going to repay his debt.

When Hitsugaya finishes talking, he's still quiet.

He's completely at ease, too.

* * *

When all's said and done, Rukia stands up, stretches her arms out and looks up the sky.

It's noon, he realizes. They should both be going soon.

She turns away from him so he can't see her face and she takes a deep breath.

"How do you intend to help me get my powers back?"

It's blunt, hard, and decidedly emotionless.

.

"I don't know," he admits after a long while.

She turns back to him, looking surprised more than anything.

However, he looks at her and keeps her gaze evenly.

"'But I will, eventually."

* * *

Ehm, hopefully people enjoyed this. If anyone wants to point out writing flaws, they're much obliged too, as well, as just their opinions!

If anything, tell me what you think will happen next/ what you'd like to see. 8D

Thanks for the read!


	4. Tea Break

After a mighty long hiatus, I decided to return to this and found playing with these two characters still really interesting. :D

Thank you so very, very much to everyone who has been reading and/or reviewing. You guys are awesome! It's what kept giving me some extra drive and huge big reminder to keep tapping away at the keyboard and flesh out a storyboard for the whole thing. So yes, hopefully, some regular (aka... more regular than yearly :D) updates might be coming, since I've figured most of the story out. So yes, thank you! Readers are the bread of life to any writer, I think.

And new author ID name… because I felt like it?

Anyway, have fun reading!

* * *

**Freestyler Chapter 3:**

**Tea Break**

* * *

For the rest of the week, they meet in the clearing. Every morning. Every sunrise.

And then one Kuchiki Rukia disappears to start the rest of her day and one Hitsugaya Toshiro vanishes to start the rest of his day.

It's highly improbable that their paths will ever cross again until the next morning.

As it is, before everything happened, it was highly improbable that the two's paths should ever cross.

.

At about two hours past midday, Rukia leaves the office of Unohana Retsu.

She's in the infirmary section of the Fourth Division and there's no mistaking it.

The endless stretch of wards and corridors are so quiet it's as if there's a perpetual hush over the whole division. Only soft footsteps and low murmurs seem to be allowed, where even _breathing_ seems to disturb the serene lull that is constantly present.

The walls are white-washed; the wooden floors methodically scrubbed and polished until they shine. Even now, as Rukia walks through, a low-ranked shinigami wipes seemingly non-existent stains in a practiced manner, armed with mop, bucket and rag.

Looking up, he frowns at the slight wet marks left by Rukia's sandals. In response, she adopts a suitably apologetic expression and quickly moves on and around the corner.

Upon turning, she starts- for there, sitting outside the first door on the right, is Hitsugaya Toshiro. The surprise in her eyes is mirrored by his, and Rukia pauses in her step.

"Ah, Taichou, good afternoon!"

.

It's odd, she thinks- a couple of days ago she would have just swept past him. He must have been thinking the same thing, for his eyebrows raise and then he crosses his arms- as if she's somehow caught him off his guard.

"Afternoon, Kuchiki," he returns curtly, standing.

"What are you-" he starts, and is echoed by Rukia in much the same space of time.

"-What are you doing here?"

They blink and there's a delayed pause. After a while, Rukia mentally slaps herself. It's not as if they're just complete strangers or acquaintances now, so why has it become slightly awkward? It's not as if they haven't talked before. _But you haven't_, a little voice at the back of her mind annoyingly points out_, you haven't._ _At least, not something that's not one hundred percent practical and shinigami related_. But the meaning is half lost on Rukia anyway and she brushes it aside.

"I just had a check-up with Unohana-taichou," Rukia explains, "She says I'm more or less healthy, other than my reiryoku levels are a bit sporadic."

"Sporadic?" Hitsugaya repeats, "What do you mean?"

Rukia shrugs, "Apparently my reiryoku levels keep lowering and increasing, interfering with my manipulation and control of it. She said it must just be a side effect of the Hogyoku Orb. "

After pausing in thought, something almost akin to relief washes over Hitsugaya's features. "That should be what's causing you all these problems- yes, I'm sure it must all be down to that. It should even out over time and some exercise. It's good news."

"I suppose so," said Rukia thoughtfully, "She did ask me to come back in a week though, just to make sure. What are you doing here?"

"I'm waiting to see Hinamori."

"Oh, Momo-san?" Rukia's eyes widen slightly in comprehension.

"Yes. She's still unconscious, well comatose, actually," Hitsugaya frowns and looks away.

"Hitsugaya-taichou?" A nurse pops her head out of an adjacent open door, "Visiting hours are open now."

The captain nods his head in response and then starts to follow the woman through. Upon realizing that he's leaving Rukia there hanging after him, he stops.

"I don't mind if you come or not," he says, and turns- but it's not been said indifferently. Instead… it sounds more like an invitation.

If it is one, Rukia accepts it.

* * *

She pours tea for them both.

There they sit, at a small table, on two small chairs opposite Hinamori's bed. The whole room has been bleached back to white, just like everything in the Fourth Division, and large windows let in a dazzling amount of blue sky in. Monitors hum and whirl softly.

Hitsugaya swirls the tea leaves in his cup around briefly before taking a sip. He glances at Kuchiki. She's looking outside.

"It'd odd," she says, "We've had snow quite early, but nothing like a heavy shower yet, or a snowstorm. It's just sunshine and cold."

She turns to him and her tone is curious- conversational. "Can your zanpakutou detect weather patterns?"

He sets down his cup. "Hyorinmaru reacts reflexively to temperature changes, he senses what's happening in the clouds. Does yours?"

The girl shrugs, "Kind of. She seems to quiver every time bad weather comes up. It's no surprise; I first met her when I was caught out in a blizzard. She saved my life."

She drinks her tea. He drinks his.

.

"Has she ever displayed any signs of consciousness?" Kuchiki's eyes soften in what looks to be sympathy.

Instinctively, Hitsugaya stiffens. "No, she hasn't."

He can't help it. No matter how hard he tries, a bilious, twisted feeling wraps around and through his stomach and his chest. He can still see it. He can still see Gin's freakish smile, his freakish eyes. He can still hear that cool, unaffected voice of Aizen, that complete lack of care in his face that his lieutenant was _dying_ on the ground, and even worse, that he, Hitsugaya Toshiro, Captain of the 10th Division, was swatted away as nothing more than a mere nuisance.

But worse, worse still, was the desperate ring of Hinamori's voice, that complete faith in her absolute truth that Aizen-taichou was always right. A faith so misplaced and so deluded and so strong that she doubted in him, she blamed him, she _attacked _him. It was Aizen-taichou until the bitter end.

"She's a fool," he says scathingly.

At this sudden remark Kuchiki's eyes widen and she glances at Hinamori. Her brow furrows. "Why?" she asks.

_Why?_

Because Hinamori was so close to death, and is still so close to death. Because Hinamori was naive, is naïve, will always be naïve and be susceptible to utterly duplicitous wretches called Aizen Sosuke.

Again, that vicious dark animosity rises up in him and along with it comes the hundred ways of brutal murder he wants to execute on that one, sadistic, fiendish _thing_.

But then. But then, Kuchiki looks at him.

Or rather, looks through him- looks into him.

He inwardly squirms, and with or without his approval, his anger starts to lose its hold on his tongue. And before he finds time to answer, she speaks again. Her tone is puzzled, and it's as if she's asking as much for him as for herself.

"Why are boys bent so much on revenge and protection?"

"Because girls rush headlong into infatuations and romance like fools," he answers readily, and none too defiantly.

"Fools?" she returns softly. She looks away.

"When I first entered the Gotei-13, perhaps about the same time as Momo-san, I had been just recently adopted into the Kuchiki family. When I was placed in my division, I was alienated from the rest of the shinigami. I was shy, frightened and _alone_.

And then," and at this she smiles almost imperceptibly, "my division's lieutenant, Kaien Shiba, saw something more than a Kuchiki porcelain doll and treated me like a person."

For one, brief moment, he thinks he can see something in her eyes, bright and brimming with bittersweet nostalgia. But then she looks up and something shades into place- an invisible wall, politely, but firmly, shuts him out.

Those violet eyes are windows, tightly shut and hard to open.

"A little respect and esteem sways a lot of lost, lonely people, taichou. Even if it is only skin-deep."

He frowns, as something grips his stomach and he feels uncomfortably defensive. "But it's not as if Hinamori had a lack of social connections."

_She had Abarai. She had Kira. She had _me. _Why did she choose _him_?,_ he wants to say, but decides not to say.

"It doesn't make a difference," counters Kuchiki, "Everyone goes through isolation and uncertainty some point in their lives. In Aizen, Momo-san thought she found someone who saw her as someone more than just a little shinigami girl, or a damsel in distress as most males do to females. He didn't protect her, he promoted her. He let her grow and become strong.

She could fight, she had talent and Aizen saw that much, even if he did exploit her trust. Perhaps no one really treated her like she was something special or capable of great battle prowess, able to hold her own."

Here Kuchiki stops, lets herself breathe and think. She then lands her final conclusion.

"Even if it became her downfall, was she really so foolish to admire her captain so much?"

Again, there's that uncomfortable twitch in the pit of his stomach.

He looks at Hinamori, _really looks at her_- and then looks away.

He feels like he's realized something he doesn't particularly want to realize.

Because knowing can mean an obligation for change, and change isn't always easy.

He finishes his tea. She finishes hers.

.

"Why are boys bent so much on revenge and protection?" she asks again.

So this second time around, Hitsugaya tries to rationalize his answer. Because when he's rational, he's very, very rational. Because when he's rational, he's safe.

"Because…" he starts, "Because what's the point of having a substantial amount of power if those you care about still get hurt? I protect because I can. I take revenge where it's needed. I fight, because it's my duty. I fight, because I have pride. I fight, because I have people I care about. I fight, because it's ingrained in my soul."

Kuchiki looks up in surprise, and she cocks her head at him, "Is it really that simple?"

Hitsugaya shrugs. "It can be, if you want it to."

He then gazes at her keenly, and turns her question back at her. "Does it have to be that complicated?"

The shinigami bites her lip, "No… No, I suppose not."

Her head tilts to one side, but she says no more.

They leave the conversation at that.

.

Kuchiki eventually leaves.

Visiting hours are closing, it's late afternoon and the sky is getting dark. Just as she's at the doorframe, she stops and looks back at him.

"Ah, taichou- about training. For tomorrow, can we try meeting in the Kuchiki compound? There are some relatively empty courtyards we could use, and it's not as far…" she trails off, and then rubs her head, as if sheepish for nearly forgetting.

He mulls it over in his head briefly, and then gives his assent. "It sounds like a good idea, let's do it."

She nods and then- smiles. "Thank you for allowing me to visit. It's been a nice afternoon."

His eyes widen slightly, yet before he can respond, she vanishes.

She leaves him behind, in a quiet hospital room, with a comatose Hinamori, his thoughts and the constant hum of the bedside monitors.

For not the first time, he wonders _who_ this violet haired shinigami girl really is.

Trying to pour himself a cup of tea, he finds the teapot empty.

* * *

Next up- the introduction of Byakuya and Matsumoto. Is that a yay? I think it is. :D

Thank you very much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!


	5. Afternoon Matinee

Well, here is the latest offering of my rather whimsical story, thank you much for all the reads, reviews and alerts- I'm thrilled at the attention!

This is the most introspective styled piece of writing I've done, so hopefully you like that sort of thing and don't find it boring. :O

Anyway, read on and enjoy!

* * *

Freestyler Chapter 4:

Afternoon Matinee

* * *

It's another training session and they are making snowballs.

…Well, perhaps not exactly.

She's been stuck at trying to form her reiryoku into a spherical shape for the past couple of days and she is _failing miserably_. Cheeks puffed out, face red with not only exertion but embarrassment, Rukia narrows her eyes at the dilapidated mess of flickering energy in her hands.

It should be easy. Should.

She should have known that nothing in life ever comes easy for her.

Beside her, a soft, almost smug hum, emanates from the spinning blue ball levitating serenely in Hitsugaya's left hand. The short captain doesn't even need to concentrate, and is now lecturing her on the proper way to form reiryoku.

His voice she tones out- she _knows_ how to do this. She's done it countless times and she knows her strength is in Kido, perhaps almost even on par with most vice captains in Sereitei. Yet now, he's formed his in mere _seconds_, she can't do after twenty minutes and it's an exercise she did in the shinigami academy when she was nothing more than a greenhorn student so _why can't she do it now?_

Exasperated she exhales and clears her head and hands. It wasn't as bad as yesterday, she supposes, nor as last week, where she couldn't even materialize the stupid energy. But she's better now, faster. Within her blood and bones, muscles and flesh, her strength and speed is slowly being knit back together.

Concentrating once more, Rukia directs the flow of energy through to her arms and then to her hands, feeling the power surge through her veins. She lets it trickle and pool into a small translucent blob, letting it accumulate slowly, but surely. After a while, she uses her hands to shape the mass into a ball. Her brow furrows, feeling strained even to just simple maintain a steady output of energy.

Yet it seems to work and soon the sphere is of an equal size with her teachers' and she smiles satisfactorily.

"Hey, Kuchiki, are you listening?" her teacher turns around and frowns.

Rukia snaps her head up in surprise, and at that moment, her system goes completely haywire, her reiatsu drops and all her effort spins out of control and hits her young teacher straight in the face.

Yes, snow balls indeed.

Rukia manages an anticipatorily wince.

* * *

The Kuchiki Compound is everything like what Hitsugaya expected it to be. It is also nothing like what he expected to be.

The buildings of the courtyard are made of polished white stone; the hallways are adorned by ornately carved lacquerware and delicate rice paper screens. Their living quarters are rampant in their luxury and wealth, yet…

_Yet, everything still seems stiff and cold. _

He wonders if it was asinine of him to think he'd find anymore life and warmth within these walls then in the rest of Soul Society. The noble born evidently are just as dead as the rest of them, no matter how much they try to cover themselves with fine silk and brocade cloth.

He sighs and looks up. Puffs of grey cloud fill the sky above and the occasional snowflake flutters down. With every exhale, a small mist of breath fogs the air around him.

He's been trying to get her to mold her reiryoku sufficiently, and he goes through all the basic principles of the act, clearly and surely to her. But she still has problems, which is odd, while her physical stamina has recovered completely, her spiritual stamina _hasn't._

After a while, he glances at her, realizes she might not be listening and-

Something cold hits the side of his face and flyaway sparks sting his cheek.

He frowns peevishly.

"You're not taking me seriously," he says, disapprovingly.

She looks at him, pauses at his stony, almost petulant, expression and _laughs. _

Laughs.

It's the first time he's heard such a full, uninhibited one from her, and… it's not an unpleasant sound.

He glares at her amusement, and rolls his eyes, but it's only mock displeasure, and the slightest hint of a smile creases his eyes.

And she's laughing and he's rolling his eyes…and that's when… that's when her brother decides to walk in.

The scene changes immediately.

.

"Good afternoon, Rukia. Good afternoon, Hitsugaya." Kuchiki Byakuya's crisp greeting is returned by silence.

It seems almost practiced, the manner in which the mirth drains from her face and is replaced by a look of awed, almost frightened respect. It's so quick, so smooth, that it's hard to believe that this jittery, wide eyed thing was really the warm, laughing girl from before. She flutters into apologies and painstakingly awkward polite mannerisms as she attempts to explain the circumstances to her brother. Her pitch changes, her posture shrinks and Hitsugaya can only stand back, cross his arms and watch on.

For some reason, he feels irked. Perhaps it's because he's never been too fond of Kuchiki Byakuya anyway. But the man himself soon looks at him in confirmation of his sister's almost ramble of words and Hitsugaya is compelled to speak.

He nods. "Ukitake asked me to mentor her and see if I could help with rehabilitation of her powers."

Rukia casts reverent, almost alarmed looks at her brother's impassiveness.

"If it's a bother to you, nii-sama, I can take Hitsugaya-taichou to another part of the grounds."

"No, it's fine," he shakes his head, silencing her, "I wasn't aware that you were having problems with your zanpakutou…"

"Yes, but it's only a little," she hurriedly interrupts, "I'm getting better every day and I'll soon be back to full strength. It's fine, nothing to be bothered about."

She keeps her gaze rooted to the floor.

Kuchiki looks at her and something imperceptible seems to flicker in his eyes.

"I see," he says slowly, "If that's so, please continue. I was merely curious."

He seems reluctant to go, and... he very almost seems _disappointed. _But that's impossible. For this is Kuchiki Byakuya and anyway… Kuchiki will not, do not want. They do not, will not yearn.

They have just about everything, don't they?

* * *

Rukia tries to rouse herself from this awkwardness, this stiffness, but the tight feeling will not pass.

Her voice automatically reaches that affected pitch, the one she knows that both Renji and Ichigo hate, hate, hate.

Hitsugaya looks at her and Rukia winces.

Juggling personas is an art she's well capable of but when she's caught between two with an attentive witness behind her she feels inextricably fake and shallow. Yet she adopts it so frequently with him that it's become natural and she hardly knows any other way to interact with him.

Her adopted brother is an indomitable figure and for some reason… she feels as if she's walking along a high wire, that any wrong step would highly displease him and send her away in disgrace. She doesn't want to bother him.

She figures he probably would be annoyed by anything trivial detail of her life. After all, he is Kuchiki Byakuya- Captain of the Sixth Division, head of the noble house of Kuchiki, possessor of Bankai, Master of Flash Steps and who knows what else?

How can she possibly compare to that? Inmate on death row, a shinigami who breaks the most basic of basic laws by communicating with and then saving a human boy? And for even that, a dirty, graceless, unkempt Rukongai street dog with nothing to her name.

Every time she comes into his presence she suddenly feels frail and foolish, clumsy and undignified.

.

"Why do you grovel at his feet?"

Hitsugaya asks this the minute Byakuya leaves and she should have known that something like this was coming. He's picking up his cloak and the question slips out.

"I-I don't grovel!" Rukia snaps back hastily, too hastily.

Hitsugaya throws her a deadpan glance. "You know what I mean, Kuchiki."

She averts his gaze and rubs her head nervously, speaking quickly before he has time to state exactly what and how and when.

"Well, it's not! I mean… it's just how it is in the Kuchiki family."

He shrugs in response, and she cringes when she realizes how utterly unconvincing she sounded.

"Well, I'm sure my brother doesn't mind, at least. It's what he expects, it's what he wants," she says defensively.

A few moments later, she barely manages to hear Hitsugaya's response.

"Really?"

She pretends not to hear.

.

She tilts her head and slowly conjures up a blue sphere of energy in her hands.

She holds it up to him, letting it bounce in her outstretched hand, as she finally manages to complete the exercise.

She smiles disarmingly and wills him to forget about what just happened.

"Right, I've finally managed to do something basic right. What else is there to do, before we bore ourselves to death on reiryoku snowballs?"

She exhales, relaxes, and finally lets a smile reach her eyes when his expression changes and he starts talking about reiatsu and zanpakutous.

* * *

There is always something dreadfully wrong when Matsumoto Rangiku grins.

And in particular, grins like _that_.

Histugaya inwardly steels himself.

"Taichou" she croons, from where she sits sprawled, on the office's couch, "Where have you been?"

"Training," he says. Shortly, abruptly and brusquely.

She rolls her eyes at this response.

He glances at the stacks of paperwork on her table, then at her mussed hair and half lidded eyes.

_She's been sleeping the whole afternoon_.

"Matsumoto," he growls, but doesn't get any farther than that.

His vice-captain stands up, and swaggers (he's sure it's a swagger) towards him.

… _She's tipsy as well._

"You," she says, thrusting her finger into his chest, "have been away for the whole week, frolicking around in the forests."

"Ukitake-taichou wanted me to take on a student temporarily," Hitsugaya grits out.

Matsumoto grins wider, "Oh sure. That's what they _all_ call it. Has Shiro-chan been getting himself into a steamy affair with one of those innocent senior students down at the shinigami academy?"

"She's a student. That's all." he folds his arms, and glares at her.

"Oh it's a she! Good." She leers in mock relief to his chagrin. "Is she pretty?"

"No," he lies.

"Talented? She's got to be something, right?"

Matsumoto pauses as her features grow a little more serious.

"Besides," the woman fixed her eyes on him, "you've always gotten heaps of requests to take on a little protégé or something over the years. Why take one on now? Especially since Sereitei's twice as busy with all the recent chaos…"

He pauses.

And finds himself struggling for an answer.

"You can tell me all the raunchy details taichou, was it your first time? Did you force her into it? Do any bondage-"

"Of course not!," he bellows and fights the heat coming to his cheeks.

"If you think I might be jealous, don't worry, after all, I still have the largest-"

Arguing with idiots, especially drunk idiots, is pointless, he realizes.

He throws one more glare at his lieutenant, turns on his heel, and stalks out the way he came in.

As he slams the door shut and _seethes_ outside in the cold, he swears he can hear mad cackling.

This irritates him even more.

* * *

Next chapter? Amazingly, some of it's been written already, and I just need to fill in those bare bones.

Thank you for reading. :) Extra kudos if you are still here from when this story started.


	6. Sundown and the Night

Wow, it turned out to be such a long chapter, that I'd thought I cut it up and stuff the rest of it in the next chapter. Probably a more appropriate break in time too. :O

Anyway, yes this a pretty spastically updated 'fic and I hope the writing style hasn't fluctuated too gratingly. Thank you very much if this still pops up in your alerts or whatever and you get some entertainment out reading this. :))

* * *

Freestyler Chapter 5

Sundown and the Night

* * *

The next time Hitsugaya visits Hinamori, he finds flowers in a vase left upon Hinamori's bedside table.

When he goes to sign his visit in at reception, he's told a violet haired shinigami left them- the Kuchiki girl, that Kuchiki girl. The flowers, they're not real ones, the weather won't permit that, but they're those origami ones, folded and creased to look like delicate white blossoms, studded with pink stamens for centers. A soft splash of color in a sea of white.

"They must be expensive, ne, Hitsugaya-taichou?" remarks the nurse, "They're so beautiful."

He nods mutely, and feels slightly surprised at the thoughtfulness of it. He masks the emotion in the business of writing his name and time of visit down. _Captain Hitsugaya_, _of 10__th__ Division: 5pm._

He leaves out the Toshiro by habit sometimes.

For really, the only one he knows to share his last is his grandmother, and she is far and few to be found in this circling mass of presumptuous old men playing their meaningless games again and again and again. He's acquainted himself so well with all the power, prestige and enigma that comes with this name that he's almost stranger to the one given to him at birth.

_In fact, he doesn't actually remember the last time he referred to himself as Toshiro, not Hitsugaya_

He frowns upon it's usage, because really, those days of playing in the dirt in Rukongai are _over_, and he _needs_ to be taken seriously as a captain. That's why Matsumoto is Matsumoto, and why everyone else is firmly played by rules of official etiquette.

Toshiro. No, it's Hitsugaya. Hitsugaya-taichou.

It's nearly off putting that it doesn't bother him as much as he thinks it probably should.

* * *

"Complete Recovery?"

"Yeah, it's fantastic, isn't it, Kuchiki-san?" Kotetsu Isane looks down at her and smiles, "What have you been doing lately? Your wounds were pretty grievous, you know."

Rukia stares down instead at the transcript the lieutenant has just handed her. She shivers, despite the fact she's inside, trying to take in this unexpected piece of news. She was going home for the day, and perhaps have a quiet night. Now, she supposes, routine will have to be broken once more.

"I don't know actually, some remedial training… I suppose that must have helped."

"Oh really?" she asks curiously, "Who with? Ukitake-taichou?"

"Oh no, Hitsugaya-taichou decided to-"

The woman's mouth drops.

"Hitsugaya-taichou! Are you serious? I swear, unless it's absolutely necessarily, that guy never voluntarily interacts with anyone bar Hinamori and Matsumoto-san."

"Eh, eh? What's this about Shiro-taichou?" Yachiru, just passing by, eagerly hops into the conversation after hearing the outburst.

Isane willingly makes another loud proclamation. Rukia stands there and looks boggled.

Yachiru jumps onto Isane's back and adamantly frowns at her over the other woman's' shoulder.

"Kuchiki-chan, you're taller than him! That's wrong!"

"Um-"

"Now I know why Matsumoto was trying to grill me for information the other day… Kuchiki, what on earth does he does with you?"

"Too short! Too short!"

"What's that supposed to mean? Uh… training?"

She tones out the conversations and scans briefly through the papers before her.

'Perfectly healthy.'

'Reiryoku levels completely stabilized.'

"Kuchiki-chan? Are you listening to me?"

'Light, melee-free work is advised for the next few weeks or so, to ensure patient's body is not overly stressed too soon again.'

'No reason why patient should not be able to house zanpakutou.'

Her eyes snap up in shock as she realizes the implications.

"I better go tell Hitsugaya."

* * *

"Oh come on, surely you can't be _that_ secretive? This is just ridiculous."

They're sitting in his office, it's the late afternoon, and Matsumoto is getting cantankerous- again. Hitsugaya puts his pen down and sighs impatiently. Picking up a thick stack of documents, he waves it at her exasperatedly.

"Matsumoto, you still haven't sorted through the applicants for new recruits! They've been here since last week. Go do them _now_."

Her only response is to roll her eyes, "Don't change the topic. Give me a name, will you? Or should I just casually stalk you to wherever it is you disappear off to nowadays?"

She raises her eyebrows suggestively at him

"For the last time, it doesn't concern you. I'm not going to have you harassing my student either, and aggravating half of Soul Society into some sort of warped rumor mill! You probably don't know her, anyway."

Hitsugaya sends a black look of complete finality and glares her down. He inwardly sighs with relief when she huffs in defeat. Standing up, the woman stalks over to his desk and snatches the papers out of his hands.

"Someone I don't know, hmm?"

"Someone you don't know," he affirms, stubbornly.

Which, is of course when the door opens and Kuchiki Rukia steps into his office.

"Excuse me… Hitsugaya-taichou, Matsumoto-fukutaichou? Is it all right if I talk to Hitsugaya-taichou quickly? It's about our training sessions."

.

For a moment there is complete silence.

And then Matsumoto chucks the applications back on his desk and chooses to _double up in_ _hysterical laughter_.

Kuchiki stares.

"Um," she begins, but trails off, deafened by Matsumoto's mirth.

Hitsugaya grits his teeth and wills himself not to redden.

"It's Kuchiki! I don't believe this!" she says, gasping for breath, "I can't believe you wanted to hide _her_ from me! Oh, this is hilarious."

His insufferably amused lieutenant turns to the newcomer, "Kuchiki-san, please excuse my behavior, please come in. You… train, with Hitsugaya?"

She cocks her head and glances at him in surprise, "Yes? Oh, you could have told her, it's not confidential or anything, I don't mind."

Matsumoto once again fails to hide an undignified giggle.

She leers at him, eyes and smile mile wide in unsuppressed glee, before looking back to the violet haired girl.

"You don't mind? Why, isn't that odd. I got such a different impression from my captain here," she says, blatantly ignoring how he's glowering at her, "I mean, he, on the other hand, minds terribly. Could it possibly be that taichou-"

"Get. Out." He seethes, "Now."

Satisfied for the moment, Matsumoto throws him a mock salute, utterly compliant. "Of course sir, of course. Don't worry, my lips are sealed."

About turning, his lieutenant then manages a lackadaisical waltz out of his office. Halfway out the door, she pauses and glances back for one final snide remark.

"Hey, taichou, don't crush too hard, yeah?"

* * *

They stand there for a minute and Rukia stares blankly at him.

"…I-I apologize for the incompetence of my subordinate. Wh-what did you want, Kuchiki?" Hitsugaya finally asks, and she can tell he's slightly flustered by the turnabout in events.

She feels slightly flustered as well, but it's obvious he's more affected, for he's averting his eyes, and there's an almost imperceptible color filling his cheeks. It's so charmingly boyish, that against all reservation, she's touched, and a small smile graces her lips.

She places her health report down on the table and decides not to comment, saving him from further embarrassment.

"Um, I had a health checkup yesterday, and Unohana-taichou has cleared me…."

* * *

At about thirty minutes to sundown, Hitsugaya stands with his student in the Kuchiki Compound.

She stands in the center of the courtyard and the sun is fading into night behind the rooftops of the houses. The orange sky bathes everything in warm tones and he stands there, watching, waiting.

They've gone through absolutely everything.

He's clashed swords with her for five minutes, and let her conjure up spinning spheres of blue energy till her hands are slightly numb and she does each successive one in mere _seconds_. Even her few attempts at mid-level kido spells work, and even without incantations, they execute with considerable force.

By all accounts, she's ready.

She's _ready_.

.

He waits.

He can feel the latent energy humming in the air as the whole courtyard is slowly filled with her reiatsu.

It's cool and soothing at the same time, and all at once the aura brings him back to that _very first morning_ not so long ago.

Her reaitsu pulses like a heartbeat, and it ripples out from where she stands.

One.

She tentatively places her hands out, palms upwards, as if in supplication to the heavens.

Two.

Her eyes are shimmering, flickering constantly, filled with something that suspiciously looks like fear.

Three.

With a start he realizes that he may have far more confidence in her than she does in herself.

.

But, regardless, something starts to form.

Almost as if it's being drawn from another dimension, a long thin iron scrap of metal forms materializies, feeding from the steady hum of energy amassed around her.

The Reiryoku compresses to finalize the shape and soon she holds a katana in her hands.

She stares at it, and he stares too, immobilized by echoes of things he's seen just a few yesterdays ago.

He does not take his eye of the sword, not even to see what his student might be feeling, almost as if he thinks it might disappear. His heart begins to beat against his chest, encouraged by the sweet smell of what seems to be _success_.

His lips quirk genuinely, and unprecedented pride swells.

"Kuchiki," he says, "Trying calling your sword's name."

* * *

…What has he just said?

All of a sudden, even with the slight success of holding what vaguely feels to be her zanpakutou and not her zanpakutou (the metal is not cold nor even cool at all) she rips her eye away from her prize. She stares at him in unabashed shock.

She tries to figure out whether he really just said is what she thinks he's just said. For it's all too familiar (him, this, and _him_) and all too unfamiliar (why does her blade, the materialization of her deepest spirit, feel so _lifeless_?). Isn't he asking her to make contact with the other half of her soul?

Isn't that the same as what _he_ also said?

_She doesn't want to know the answers her calling might provide._

"Taichou," she falters, "I… I…"

Déjà vu crashes over her a like a tidal wave.

.

_It was Ukitake-taichou who first suggested it._

_They were sipping tea in his office, on a bleak, cold afternoon. Ichigo and the others had left a few days ago, and Rukia was still slightly trying to come to terms with what had just happened in the last few weeks._

_But she engaged in trivial, light hearted chatter anyways- at least, for as long as she could. It was then that he started to broach the Issue._

_Winter was coming again to Sereitei for another long haul. Already, there was thin coat of snow on the ground, and next week predicted a much heavier snowfall. The temperatures were dropping; all life was starting to go into slumber._

_It seemed like there was a lack of activity, both in the realms of the living and dead- the traitor Aizen seemed to be lying low for now. He could apply for a temporary leave of all shinigami work for her. Hitsugaya would probably be a good mentor._

It would be a good time to regain her powers, no?

_At first, she wasn't sure how to react._

_It was an issue she had never approached for a while… she almost forgotten about it (or rather locked it up and cast it away into the depths of her heart)._

_It hadn't been deliberate, this slow façade being made to cover the void of her absent zanpakuto. _

_While she had never once regretted that night with the hollow and that orange haired boy… she had never meant for Shirayuki to be torn from out of her very soul and suddenly vanish to leave her feeling so overwhelmingly empty. _

_And now she was being told to try and do something that she still had no idea how to, let alone most other shinigami. This was something almost unheard off in the Gotei 13- she had based her decision that night on tall tales and legends and half-proven fairy tale like theories._

_But Ukitake-taichou trotted on anyway, albeit gently, tentatively - why not go out into the outskirts of Rukongai, find a quiet place? He could exempt her from work while her application was being reviewed and contacted the 10th Division-_

Try calling her name, Kuchiki-san.

_She wasn't sure how to react to that, either._

_She then kind of looked at her captain. _

_Then kind of shrugged and looked away before being stuck between kind of saying something and kind of not._

_In the end, it came out anyway, and Ukitake had strain his ears to hear. _

_It was devastatingly filled with despair._

"_I don't remember how."_

_._

"I don't remember how," she says, and it feels like some sort of dreadful epiphany.

* * *

"…You don't remember how?"

For some reason he never once conceived this as a possibility.

The last flickers of the sun's warmth has disappeared, and the only thing that gives off light is the cold blue latent sparks of her Reiryoku. And in between and in beneath the shadows of the evening, he constantly _sees_ these images of things he swears he's seen _before._

Of things that move with the grace of birds, of things made of snow and things made of the purest white.

"I… can't." she finally forces out.

Looking at her eyes he sees that at this very moment, she's telling the truth. Frustration gnaws at his throat for he cannot by far express all these intangible things collapsed inside his head. They ache for some sort of factual evidence to bring them to life, and now, he begins to wonder whether they were just completely baseless, non-existents in the first place.

"What do you mean?" he asks, "Just try saying her name."

"Sode no Shirayuki," she responds, staring tentatively at her sword, "Sode no Shirayuki."

It sounds flat, as if missing a certain timbre or resonance. However, he isn't sure what to say for she's done exactly what he's asked for.

"Come out," she whispers, and it sounds like a plea.

.

As they leave the courtyard together, Hitsugaya swears he can hear _something_. He asks Rukia, and she skitters, walks faster, and swears she can only hear the wind.

She ducks in the house without waiting for a response.

Glancing backwards, he swears he heard something _crying_.

* * *

Byakuya meets her when she gets back, and she wonders why he always happens to be just so conveniently present at such times of her failures. She says as little as possible and burns crimson with shame. His impassive looks as always, are so damningly indecipherable.

Stumbling out of his study, she meets Renji in the hallway.

"Rukia!" he grabs her by the shoulder, and she turns around, surprised.

His reiatsu, so familiar, is comforting and mixed with his scent, billows out like a gentle breeze. She breathes it in, deeply, and sighs.

"Hey."

Something deep inside her struggles to break free, a desperate onslaught of emotion. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a stack of documents grasped with his big hands, and she forces the feeling down as she remembers.

The tension starts up again, and she bites her lip, and manages a nervous sort of smile.

"So, what's a lieutenant like you skulking round here at this time of the night?

He scratches his head, almost sheepishly. He manages a lopsided grin at her and something twinges painfully in her stomach.

"Just forgot to hand in some reports to your brother. Man, everything's chaos right now. Sixth Division has to help cover for the absence of the captains in the other divisions and it's busy as hell."

He files through the papers and begins leafing a few out.

He's grown up a lot from the straggly, skinny little boy she used to know. It's been a long time since they've ever actually seen eye to eye, he's so tall, and sometimes more often than not, she feels he's quite outgrown her.

"So, what's this I hear about you doing some remedial training?" he asks, looking over the top of the papers.

Automatically, she looks down at her feet and scrambles for some sort of remotely convincingly response.

"Um… it's all right, I guess."

Her mind goes blank again.

"How about I tell you about it later?" she waves him off and rubs her head, "I'm quite tired at the moment… Why don't I meet you lunch or something this week?"

"Yeah, that sounds great! It'd a nice excuse to get out of the office."

His eyes light up like a puppy dog and it's almost too endearing. She has to quite forcefully stop herself from spilling out the awful truth of what has just happened.

His brow furrows as he surveys her a little bit.

"But you do look a bit worn out… Has anything happened? I mean, not just tired, you look-"

Rukia throws out her escape plan.

"I'm fine, Renji. Nii-sama's just next door. Don't keep him waiting, ne?"

Ushering him through, the smile she plasters on though, is a little bit too reassuring.

* * *

The moon is swathed over, smothered over in dark cloud and the night is rendered pitch black.

It's past midnight and there's a slight wind chill in the air. The clouds above threaten to burst into snow and for once, he feels suffocated by the weather. He's been walking around Sereitei for the past couple hours, stalking through the streets for the fact that insomnia has been plaguing him the whole night.

Matsumoto's words the other day keep repeating themselves in an irritating mantra through his head, whirling round, and he sometimes wishes his lieutenant doesn't know him enough to be so annoyingly perceptive.

_Why take one on now? _

_Is she pretty or something?_

_Talented?_

He breathes heavily, sending out puffs of fog in the cold night air. Pretty? He supposes so, but not in the conventional sense for sure. There's something already within her that's snapped away her innocence, and it seems to set her at odds with most other light-hearted girls he's seen her with or met. Her voice is mellower and her eyes and hair are violet hued, in an almost jarringly striking fashion.

.

No, there's something more than that.

His brow furrows deeper… Talented? Not that he can tell right now, with both her powers and zanpakutou amiss. Annoyed, he realizes he really can't think of any viable reason as to why he's so invested and interested in her. Or why he bothered with her in the first place.

For before all of this, he's never even really glanced at her, and even knew who she _was_. He remembers, Matsumoto's whimsical decisions to pepper him with gossip, just to hear his opinions and she telling him about Abarai Renji, gunning for the position of lieutenant, just for her. Whenever he saw her before, she just another in the sea of shinigami, in the sea of blank faced people who never seem to make a mark.

Yet now she's been suddenly shoved into the mess of Sereitei and then overnight, suddenly occupies perhaps most of his waking hours. She confuses him, really, that's it, right? An anomaly. Just the fact of having a Kuchiki on death row, a _Kuchiki_, seems ironic.

…And the fact that she keeps doing all sorts of unbalanced things that keep conflicted with what she says and does in the very next moment. She seems so frightened one moment, and then almost surreally ethereal the next. He's so confused he's not sure whether she actually is able to, and has been summoning her zanpakutou…

Or is he even just imagining everything?

He stops in his tracks and crosses his arms.

Is he?

Did he actually see this shinigami girl with the violet eyes in the clearing with that white, white sword?

Perhaps, he thinks, perhaps, he is beating himself over nothing. Hallucinations from morning sunlight? A propensity for jumping to conclusions?

This conclusion makes him feel a little better. Because if he didn't see Kuchiki Rukia _(dance)_ in that clearing on that day then Kuchiki Rukia is just another normal shinigami of whom his imagination is somehow paranoidly concocting somethings out of nothings with. Then, whatever bizarre being or case he's thinking she might be, is simply a figment of an overworked mind.

After all, he can't be caught up with a little thing like this when Aizen is on the loose, he has a division to run, and Hinamori is in a coma in hospital.

The last month has been a nightmare… and perhaps there have been side effects from the medication. He's been dosed rather heavily.

It sounds logical, and Hitsugaya willingly accepts it.

He forces himself to accept it.

.

And then almost falls over when he sees his charge, Kuchiki, upon the roof of her compound.

_She's sleepwalking._

She's sleepwalking andhis eyesight is conjuring up a ridiculous vision that she is holding a white sword.

Immediately, all his arguments for boxing the center of his attention away _shatter._


	7. Turning Point

Hello once again, thank you once again for the lovely reviews, and alerts and favorites! They make my inbox's day. : D

I managed to get into my email and reply to most of you, and probably quite rambly, commented on fluff. I hope seeing chapters are increasing in length, that there won't be too much of a repetitive overdose today… :O

I'd love to spoiler, because I've been angsting so much about what sort of moods I wanted for these scenes it's not funny. I even have a few alternate versions.

Anyway, I'll shut myself up. Be excited, for I think stuff may happen today.

* * *

Freestyler Chapter 6:

Turning Point

* * *

He squints, but even being this close to her on the rooftop doesn't change a thing

He squints, but it refuses to disappear. _She_ refuses to disappear.

_It's a white sword._

It's a white sword with a long white ribbon attached to it.

It's her zanpakutou. He frowns. It shouldn't be here. _It shouldn't._

Like a lightning bolt, Kuchiki suddenly moves towards him. Before he can even react her blade swings terribly close and whistles past his ear. Sidestepping to the left, he grabs Hyourinmaru from his sheath and manages to parry off the next blow.

_This cannot be happening,_ he thinks. _It should not be happening_

_._

But it is, oh it is.

And what's worse, perhaps, is that it's _all the same_.

Her movements still have that maddingly eloquent grace to them. Her swings are unpredictable, yet like a fractal they always seem to fall in perfect synchronization with the steadfast beat of her feet.

What he first assumed to be haphazard swings are in fact, still, structured in that same rhythm, steadfastly following the beat of her feet. The ribbon of her sword cuts through the black of night in an ivory arc, and again she makes that perfectly circular pirouette.

Yes, he's seen it all before.

And it is something he _shouldn't_ becoming familiar with. Yet, her translucent nightgown billows slightly in the wind, transforming her into a pale ghost haunting the night and he's never been more _entranced._

That frightened girl this afternoon, can it really be her now?

She seems so genuine now and the bizarreness of it all traps him in inertia. He thought he knew her better now, but he perhaps thought wrong. He only manages to remember to move at the last moment each time, barely avoiding tripping her up or getting struck by her blade.

She seems to be unconscious, yet each very action she makes carry such incredible weight that it seems unlikely that there's neither thought nor feeling nor reason to them. It's almost as if there's a part of her, trapped under by the insecurity of her waking hours, which struggles to free itself. He sometimes thinks he sees her like this, once or twice, but she always shields herself away again.

And now asleep, so not herself and so like herself, he's meeting her again tonight.

.

At one point in time she stops, jarringly sudden, and she is inches from his face. Her outstretched arm barely touches his shoulder, and the sword's ribbon brushes against his back. She is so close he can count her eyelashes, so close he's surrounded in her light ethereal scent, so close , so close, _so close_.

His mouth turns dry and he feels as if he is being smothered by their coincidental intimacy.

He only once remembers standing this near to Hinamori when she used to reach over and pat his head affectionately, but this is overwhelmingly different. He finds himself teetering on a line into an area he knows is off limits for exploration, and so he _forces_ himself to not think about her like he just has, forces himself to not concentrate on the sight, sound, touch, smell.

(But not taste. Not yet, not _ever._)

.

She spins into motion again, and he feels like he caught within her movement.

As she nimbly shifts away from him, she looks to be heading straight off the edge of the roof and he jerks after her. Grabbing her by the back of her robe, he pulls her in and turns her around by her shoulders as she stumbles backwards.

Her eyes open and the white sword turns to frost in her hands.

She awakes.

She awakes, and something deep within her closes.

.

"Taichou!"

She stares at him.

He stares back at her.

And then realizes he is still touching her and drops his arms, embarrassed. He suddenly realizes how terribly inappropriate all of this is and how'd he perhaps rather be dead than found by Kuchiki Byakuya with his adopted sister in the middle of the night.

He coughs, and when he looks at her, he lapses into professionalism.

Because it's safe, says a little voice at the back of his head, because you don't want to think about what's happening.

"You were sleepwalking, Kuchiki. I don't think you hurt yourself… have you?"

"Sleepwalking?" she blinks, disorientated, "Um no… I don't think so. What- what are you doing here?"

He rubs his head self-consciously, "I was in the area. I got out of the office late, and I needed to clear my mind with a walk."

She sways and he reaches out, placing a hand on her shoulder.

He sighs. "Perhaps we should go inside. Do you know where we are in the compound?"

"Um…" she looks around, "I suppose I could find my bedroom…"

* * *

She sits at her vanity table, slightly alarmed and in confused disbelief at the fact that the 10th Division Captain is standing in her living quarters. But her head is fuzzy and she can barely think.

Walking through the corridors of her own house, leading him to her room, she almost felt like an intruder in her own house. Perhaps because of the impossibly destructive connotations of them being found like this, of proud servants and proud family members looking down at her in judgmental disdain and assumption; of sly gossiping lips; of being quietly disowned from the family her adoptive brother worked so hard to get her into.

Even in her own room, she feels barely safe, and she wonders whether these barriers and these walls, are really the true material of which a Kuchiki is molded from. Now, her senses are rolling back to her in waves, and she realizes that she was really quite so _foolish_ to bring him here.

It's odd, she muses, how everything has happened.

She doesn't even know quite herself what _has_ happened. She was sleepwalking… and yet she's never known herself to sleepwalk, even from those archaic times of sleeping on the street, or halcyon days of Ichigo's home.

How he always seems to be the one, in the right place, in the right time, to wake up her subconscious up, she never knows.

The first time, she supposes, was a fluke. But tonight, she can hardly even imagine why he would be stalking through Sereitei at such an unearthly late hour. She can hardly even imagine what he keeps seeing in her. For ever since the beginning, he seems constantly rapt by her, like a moth to a flame, or wolves to the moon.

Even now, he stares, and she becomes self-conscious, re-arranging a blanket to drape across her shoulders.

"Kuchiki," he starts, "You were…"

But words seem to choke themselves in his throat.

He starts again.

"Why can't you summon your sword?"

"Well…" she blinks, "I… I just don't think… I was ready to make the connection."

"Yes, but you've been cleared by the hospital." irritation creeps into his voice, "Your report says you're physically capable of doing it. So, so…"

_So why can't you?_

He trails off, but she hears the implicit statement anyway and it reverberates painfully through her head.

She's tried so many times that she's just about accepted that it perhaps won't happen anytime soon. _(…or at all.)_ She remembers sneaking outside, in the human world, when Ichigo was asleep and trying her best to do… something.

Though what that something was she can hardly remember, and her memories fade away from her, leaving her with nothing but a blank.

It almost seems too convenient.

"Well, you heard me yesterday, right? I called her… and nothing came back."

In response Hitsugaya sighs and shakes his head.

"Kuchiki," he says, "Is that really how you're meant to call her?"

He leans his head closer, and she almost feels invaded by a perception that might pierce through her comfort of ignorance.

"I-I don't know."

"You do," he insists.

A brief image flashes through her head, of what she cannot quite grasp, yet even as she tries to retain it, her mind seems to automatically box it out.

"No," she frowns, "No. I really don't."

The puzzlement of her tone jerks him backwards, and unsurprisingly so, for she truly does feel stumped.

She tries again, it but lurks just outside her mental reach, too fleeting and too vague.

She sighs and shrugs and glances at him.

"Hitsugaya-taichou?"

He looks likes he badly wants to say something, but he stops himself, quickly bids goodnight, and _leaves_.

* * *

Early the next morning, Ukitake Jushiro finds Hitsugaya Toshiro waiting for him in his office.

As soon as he enters the room, he can feel Hitsugaya's reiatsu, angry and smothering, fill the room, and the stony glare he receives only confirms the mood.

Before he can manage any sort of greeting, the captain begins speaking.

"Why did you ask me to tutor Kuchiki Rukia for you?"

The words fall flat and the bluntness of it causes Ukitake's mouth to fall slightly open in surprise.

"What's happened?"

"What's happened?" Hitsugaya echoes incredulously, "Nothing's happened. I thought perhaps, something would happen. But it hasn't and it appears she might be stuck in this state for a long, long while. She can't summon her sword, or she won't, or thinks she won't and right now I'm a little more than confused at what your original intentions for me and her were."

Ukitake purses his lips and wonders whether he should have perhaps, foreseen this.

"What do you mean?" he frowns.

"Perhaps, it might be clear to you that Kuchiki obviously has an underlining problem beneath everything else that is restricting her abilities. I've found that out, especially after my lessons with her, so please, toss me a bone and tell me what sort of plan you thought you had because it is not, working."

The tension breaks through the white haired shinigami's normally cool demeanor, and he continues on determinedly.

"It's a mess, Ukitake. I've done my part in helping to restore her physical health, but I'm really not sure what other endless cans of worms I'll have to open before I reach some sort of conclusion. Again, I'm asking you: why did you ask me to tutor Kuchiki Rukia for you?"

"I suppose, partly because you both have the same type of zanpakutou-"

"I know that," Hitsugaya interrupts heatedly, "But surely that was not your complete reasoning, was it?"

"Well, to be honest, I wasn't really expecting you to take her on, let alone show any sort of interest, given how you've never really been in a strong teaching position before. I'd thought I'd give it a try, however, and I arranged a meeting between you and her. There, I supposed you could decide for yourself what the situation was. Do you remember that?"

The captain slowly nods his head.

"But on the day of that meeting, before it even took place, or you even met her, you sent me a telegram saying you would definitely do it, no problem whatsoever. You seemed to be strongly motivated to do it, and it is only now that you've come to me with some sort of crisis, I guess." Ukitake furrows his brow, "The real question I suppose, where did all the conviction to be so invested in her, come from?"

For a moment, there is silence.

Hitsugaya averts his gaze.

"I don't know why, and I'm not going to ask, but I think you already know," Ukitake quietly says.

"I'm still not the right person for this job." The white-hared captain insists tersely.

There's a pause and then Ukitake laughs.

"If you aren't the right person, Hitsugaya, who is?"

* * *

The next time Rukia wakes up, she wakes up by herself.

She flickers her eyes open, and isn't jarred from slumber, nor staring into vivid depths of green.

She still feels drowsy, and the sunlight flicks through her windows. She sees her zanpakutou (still sealed… always sealed…) resting at the foot of her futon.

Warmth encapsulates her, even on a winter morning, and the events of last night are as blurred and faded as a dream.

She sits up, and rubs the sands of sleep from her eyes.

.

_Ice, she _remembers, she remembers _ice_. A feeling of vertigo passes through her and she almost remembers the giddy feeling, of standing on the rooftop, on the edge of everything.

She remembers the abandon, almost akin to flight, of something... was that part just her dream, or was it something truly real?

She feels too sleepy to think coherently. Shaking her head, she clears it and looks up at the sky outside.

.

The sun is high in the sky.

The sun is high in the sky.

Her eyes widen and she jerks to her feet.

Tonight… tonight, her brother said he needed her help… they were having guests over…

She needs to get up.

.

As she rushes over to her closet and pulls out clothes, she chances a glance at her sword.

Today, she feels closer, she feels not so solitary, nor so lonely.

As quickly as the thought comes she laughs dryly at herself. Inane, of her, to project meaningless ideas like those.

Closer to what? Less lonely than what?

She really wouldn't know.

As she leaves the room, she pauses to take one final look.

She swears she heard something singing.

* * *

"Hey, Renji, have you heard about your Rukia-chan and my captain?"

Renji looks up from where he was cleaning his sword and frowns, "What do you mean, Rangiku-san?"

On first impulse, he assumes it's just another of her empty jibes, but still, something in him tenses.

They're in the lieutenant's corner, a place near the first division quarters, which was built to give the fukutaichous of Sereitei a few meeting rooms and a place to retreat to if need be.

"Aw, come on, it's hot gossip, don't you know?"

"No."

She looks up in surprise at the almost sour tone, and Renji relents and throws a sheepish look at her. Something is gnawing at the amicability he normally has.

"Hitsugaya, for perhaps the first and last time in his life, is taking on a student, and it happens to be your Kuchiki-san."

His eyebrows raise a little, as he takes it in, and somehow feels off put by the inclusion of someone new in Rukia's life.

"So? What's so interesting about that?" he retorts, "Besides she's not 'mine' anyway."

Matsumoto sips the glass of rice wine in her hands and smiles at him lazily from the couch.

"Yes, yes, I suppose she wouldn't have had anything to do why you decided to gun for being lieutenant under Kuchiki Byakuya so badly, right?" the woman laughs, "Quite a few people I know are rather intrigued, seeing as my dear captain is a bit of a anti-social. I gather he's quite taken by her."

"Taken?" A vein pulses.

"Well, yes." She looks at him, really looks at him and her mouth opens slightly in comprehension, "Renji, you're not-"

"No," he says hurriedly, and then as if in compensation, laughs loudly, "Of course not. Hitsugaya might be good at what he does, he's a genius of a shinigami, I'll give him that. But he's still a brat, still a kid."

She nods, and it lapses back into silence.

He tries to focus on a stain near the tip of his zanpakutou, but niggling thoughts distract him immensely.

Finally he sheathes his sword and stands up, giving up on what seems to be a futile project. Perhaps a walk in the cold air outside might help. As he is about to leave the room, he pauses, glancing at Rangiku.

"Doesn't it bother… you?"

She cocks her head and looks at him.

"What do you mean?"

He shuffles his feet.

"You know what I mean."

Her eyebrows raise.

"No, it doesn't," she says frankly, "I've been his lieutenant for a while, and I know him. Perhaps their relationship is a bit volatile… and I'm not so sure about Kuchiki-san, but he really needs someone to shake him up a little. It'll do them both good."

"Huh," Renji says, strapping his sword to his waist, "Well I'm going. Catch you later."

* * *

Late in the evening, past sundown, past moonrise, Hitsugaya decides to rationally, calmly, and reasonably, go talk things out with that girl-with his student.

After finishing things up at his office, he heads directly for the Kuchiki compound. Upon reaching it, he's surprised to find he's not a lone outside the entrance- the doorways are wide open, and a fair amount of people are streaming through. He enters along with them, follows the crowd, and ends in a large courtyard, filled with… what he assumes to nobles. Or at least, wealthy.

They are all dressed to kill, and he wonders what sort of gathering he's inadvertently stumbled into.

He sees a group of young children setting off small firecrackers, and two small bays, playing tag and hoisting lanterns into the air. There's a throng of people present, the mood is loud, and almost festival like. To the far corner, a stage has been set up where a couple of street musicians play woodwind and string instruments. A couple stalls are scattered around the periphery, and a vast array of food and drink is laid out on long tables, attended carefully by a range of servants.

He grimaces in discomfort, yet manages to hold his head up high until he catches sight of Kuchiki.

He automatically rehearses the speech he's practiced countless times, over and over in his head, and remembers all the things he needs to say, and what he needs to get _her_ to understand. Tonight, all the running in circles they've been doing is going to stop, he decides firmly. He's going to clear everything with her. Things from now on will be simpler, less complicated, rational.

She looks up as she strides over to her, and she immediately excuses herself from her conversation.

"Ah, good evening, Hitsugaya-taichou…" she looks away sheepishly, "Sorry I forgot about practice this morning, I overslept, and then I had to help with this-"

Her eyes then widen suddenly.

"About last night… I don't know why you were there, or how you managed to be there, but," she looks back at him, "Thanks a lot."

He shrugs nonchalantly, waving it off, "You are in a way, my charge, at the moment. Eh, um…"

He stares at the getup she's wearing. She's dressed in a thick winter kimono, decorated by an intricate floral pattern, tied back with a wide sash and colored by several hues of rich, rich purple. Her hair has been put into a delicate bun, secured by a range of ornamental chopsticks, and for perhaps the first time in his life, he feels extremely conscious of how slightly out of place he must be.

_It is a pretty costume_, he thinks, and then bites it back sharply. That is much too dangerous a thought to be making.

He folds his arms, "Could we get out of this place, and go somewhere quieter? It's quite noisy here."

.

"Eh, I'm actually pretty glad you came," she admits, when they finally they leave the loud function in the courtyard, "Too many curious guests wanting to know more about the Kuchiki who was on the execution block."

She's taken them to the Kuchiki family gardens, and it's more secluded. Ornate clay walls divide the total area into smaller gardens filled with a range of small shrines, ponds, flower beds and carefully tended trees.

"What is this event, anyway?" he says, glaring at the music that is still filtering through to them.

"Oh, the Kuchiki family normally organizes seasonal gatherings with the Shihoin family, to keep good ties between the two clans," she says wryly. "Nobles have their own mysterious set of politics, I suppose."

"I see," he replies and tries to gather his thoughts together.

But she yanks the pretty ornaments out of her hair, and the bun falls loose, hair cascading back onto the neck and she pockets the chopsticks, he finds it all too distracting.

"Kuchiki," he begins, almost frantically, but she interrupts.

"Rukia is fine," she says, absent mindedly, waving the formality away.

"Rukia," he then says, automatically, and then freezes, for the word tastes foreign on his tongue.

But she doesn't seem to notice anyway; her head is turned upwards and away from him.

"It's snowing," she comments, her attention fixated on the crescent-shaped moon above.

"Yeah," he says impatiently, but nevertheless, he finds himself glancing skywards, as she had just done.

The moon pale against a backdrop of clouds, illuminates the snow softly floating down towards them, and holding her kimono sleeve up, she catches a single white sliver.

"They say that no two snowflakes are the same," she says, examining the one on her sleeve with care, "that each and every one has a unique and intricate pattern. It's seems almost a pity, because they melt so quickly, ne?"

His gut is twisting, for once again he is well and truly caught. Caught, by the moonlight playing on her hair, caught by the incandescent glow of her porcelain skin, caught by depths of violet so deep he thinks he's _slipping in ten feet over his head and sinking rapidly._

It's so similar and not so similar from the night before, and definitely far, far too soon to put in such a volatile situation like this again. His meticulous self-control is breaking, for this, he knows, will definitely not be the first nor the last time it will happen and he _fears_ he can do nothing to stop this downwards spiral of tangled emotion.

"Rukia- I mean, Kuchiki-" he breaks off in frustration.

He has to do it now, he has to, he must.

Reaching out he grabs her arm, forcing her to look at him.

"Last night when you were sleepwalking you were _dancing. _You've been using Sode no Shirayuki, as she is, all this time."

She immediately drops her other arm, snow flicking off it and stares at him.

A crack forms in her former light hearted mood and he almost wants to say that it was a mistake, don't worry, just forget it all.

But even she would, he knows he could never. He decides to forge on, come what may.

"Wh-what?" she blinks, "What did you just say?"

"Every time you go to sleep, every time you are unconscious," he repeats irritatedly, "you have been summoning her. That's what happened the first time I saw you."

She wrenches her arm free from his grip and violently shakes her head.

"No I haven't," she insists, "I would know. You'd think I remember, if she was with me, if she was-"

"Well like it or not," he says, his volume increasing, "You have been. Facts are facts. I've seen you with my own eyes, I've nearly gotten slashed by your sword, I've even had to stop you from jumping off your own damn roof. You have been materializing her, you've been accessing her, you've been _dancing with her, _so please don't-_"_

"I don't dance."

He feels as if he's just run into a brick wall.

* * *

"I don't dance," she repeats quickly.

Something within her has sparked, and she can feel both fear and something, something much more perilous, running rampant through her senses.

Instinctively, she reaches inside for her familiar visages, and constructing the politeness onto her face carefully, she looks away from him.

"You must be mistaken," she says slowly, trying hard to keep her voice steady, "And besides, you don't need to be bothered by a trivial matter like this anyway. You've done enough, more than enough… I'm sorry to have troubled you, sir."

For a minute there is silence, and then he emits a low, low sound which snaps her head back towards him in shock.

"You did not, just say that." He says, and he is absolutely _livid._

"We can't- We can't just keep doing this. _You_ can't keep doing all of this!" he cries, gesturing wildly at the air, before pointing at her, "Why can't we have an occasion when you actually drop all of these _barriers_ and be yourself. Or just be one person and stay like that. It's neurotic! You cannot keep doing all of this to me and then act like you _don't know!"_

_Like you don't know_.

The argument that had been racing to her lips breaks off, and she realizes she can no longer find anymore words to hide behind. For some part of her _knows _what he is speaking of. The cool pride that has come from years and years of nimble diversions and clever blocks of introspections to herself; it breaks open and falls to pieces of fear and insecurity instead.

Even worse, the haze of confusion and ignorance she's felt about their situation is slowly being cleared, dispelled, and it seems the knowledge of reality is just as complicated, if not _more_, than anything she could have possibly speculated upon.

She puts her hands up in weak defence as he steps closer to her.

"Taichou," she begins, but he breaks her off.

He seems even more incensed.

"Don't you use that word on me, don't you dare," he grits out.

She takes yet another step back, to find her back against the garden wall and Hitsugaya's right hand blocking her escape.

She shrinks, and suddenly he's looming over her and her heart starts to pound in overtime.

An explosion of incoherent connections and implications flash through her mind, yet she isn't sure if she wants to run or stay and be saturated within this moment forever.

"_You,_" he seethes and it sounds frustrated, ragged. _Raw_.

She attempts to push him away, but he refuses to budge.

His entire body is wrought with tension, and a dozen conflicting emotions wash over his rigid figure; cascades of aggravation, protocol, confusion, want.

Suddenly, everything seems to go so completely _still_.

He looks at her, really looks at her, and she is immobilized by what she sees within his eyes.

The intensity of that viridian green gaze is staggeringly overwhelming, and it is then that she realizes exactly what has been behind his chaos of emotion over the last couple of weeks. _She feels helplessly intoxicated._ For it is as if the entirety of his being has been laid out fearlessly in front of her eyes, and amongst the swirling emotion she now suddenly knows what he so _desperately wants_.

She attempts to move, but her body is struck dumb.

He tilts his head, and leans in so that they are forehead to forehead.

Face to face.

Eye to Eye.

Breath to Breath.

His lips slam against her, and Rukia's eyes widen wide, wider, wider.

* * *

Hear any hitsuruki shipper squee, although I hope you're not just reading this fic purely for that intention, lol. 8D

Regardless, I hope it was at least satisfactorily enough for your fluff appetite (okay perhaps it's not fluff… but gooey romance feeling?), and I quite fear their relationship might have gotten out of my hands now.

Here's to hoping inspiration will allow me to write twice as fast as I normally do.


	8. Counting Backwards

EDIT:

Fixed up some grammar and syntax errors- a lot of them actually... Embarrassed the heck out of me when I reread this, but furthermore, is spazzing something chronic. Anyone else who writes been having a Document Manager Problem? Hopefully it's better now.

Renji and Rukia need their own dedicated work of fanfic… and Renji needs some love. I butchered their scene of meaningfulness, and hopefully I'll stick it into a free-standing one shot one day. I apologize in advance for the kind of screwed up dot page breaks and flashback scenes- seems obstinately determined to not allow any center alignment whatsoever.

Oh my- and I just kind of caught up with the Bleach manga. This really now, seems to take place an age ago. An eon, almost.

I am meant to be studying for exams, but evidently this is a lot more fun than literature essays. :o

Thank you once again for all your support! To have readers is a lovely thing.

* * *

Freestyler Chapter 7:

Counting Backwards

* * *

Their lips slam together and Hitsugaya feels his blood spike like wildfire.

There is no captain now, there is no subordinate; he's crossed the line with a mile wide leap and he hardly knows what he's doing. Each and every sensation is new, for he is on foreign territory, new territory, territory he barely knows how to explore. Threads of rationality hammer away at the back of his mind, flashing signs of danger and desperately desperately ringing warning bells.

However, when he leans into her even further and the grip on his chest goes slack, he throws caution to the winds.

For when she seems like she isn't disliking it, that, he might actually be affecting her as much as she is affecting him-

Her pupils dilate and then her eyes begin to flutter closed.

His world explodes.

.

Into the quiver of her lips against his, smooth soft plush against rough and chapped; into deafening thumps of heart against chest, into the shine of dark hair in still night he is being broken asunder and he no longer has _control_.

For their breath is mixing together, her lips are parting slightly, white skin like silk brushes against his cheek, her _scent_ is invading and soaking into his very veins. Heat is enveloping them, enveloping their cheeks, their lips and his whole entire being and in the damning tart flavour of the forbidden fruit, in the _tastetouchsmellsightsound_ his brain has shut down entirely from sensory overload.

He feels as if he's drinking in moonlight.

He feels as if he's drowning in it.

He's feels as if he's drowning in _her_.

He savours the moment, too short, before reaching out to touch her cheek with his hand.

_And then it breaks_.

.

Again those violet eyes recoil open.

She pushes him off her forcefully, sending him staggering backwards, and the moment is all lost in the gasps for lost breath and the confused new meet of eye to eye.

Purple to Green.

Green to purple.

Suddenly, he realizes _exactly_ what he's just done , realizes exactly what it means, and he leaps back in a jumble of limbs and feet.

He's just kissed her.

He's _kissed_ her.

_(Oh God.)_

Heat turns to cold turns to fear as he stares at the girl before him, her fines features _contorted in shock._

_(He's terrified.)_

And then he runs.

Oh, he runs.

_(His courage runs away with him.)_

_

* * *

_

As Rukia leans against the wall, she watches his rapidly retreating back and then stumbles to her feet in an attempt to run after him.

But he's too frightened and too fast and she's too bewildered to be able to make a real chase. Halfway through the gardens she stops and tries to breathe, tries to regain the unceremonious expanse of oxygen she feels he's so abruptly taken.

She tries to think, but her world- the sky the ground the stars- is spinning and she tries to push back the adrenaline rush brought by the fact that Hitsugaya that he-he…

Again, heat rushes through her and her knees feel too weak.

Slowly, she touches her fingers to her lips, then wrenches them away.

She understands, now.

* * *

A few minutes later and Hitsugaya is sprinting for his life.

He does not muse, he does not ponder-his heart is pounding in his ears and it pushes out all coherent thought. He can feel the heat on his cheeks, the wind rushing past in an endless scream. By the time he stops running, flash stepping over walls and rooftops, he realizes he's already back in the city and it's far too late to go back.

He tries to figure out what on hell or heaven or earth could have possibly possessed him to _do that_. Yet reasons are not forthcoming, and tension winds itself around his heart, and he suddenly remembers the look of fear he saw on her, that evening so long ago now, and realizes that perhaps like her and her zanpakutou, he _really_ does not want to _know_ what she thinks of him now.

He'd rather drench himself in ignorance, and feed a trickling lifeline of hope and fantasy, than know an absolute truth that might crush it all completely.

He tries to focus on all things bar her, on the dangerous lurk of Aizen, Hinamori coma'd in hospital, the improvements he was going to make to his abilities, the work he had to do-

And in an invasion of his dreams, his daydreams, both when asleep and awake, phantom images of her flicker through his mind. Stolen twilight, and flashes of heat rip into him, and that night when he lies in bed, he tosses and turns through midnight, through dawn, and fails to get a grip of himself by morning.

* * *

The days after, she tries to find him, even though she doesn't know what she's going to say.

She doesn't even know how she _feels_.

* * *

He lurks away, and attempts to keep himself busy, organizing his division back into routine from the recent commotion, organizing other people. _(because he cannot organize himself, now can he?)_

With more force than originally intended, he shoves a brusque apology letter for a cancellation of lessons into the hands of a Kuchiki servant and marches away from the compound, business like.

It's not his fault.

After all, what right has _she_ to invade him and turn all his carefully constructed protocols of behavior upside down and inside out?

He is her teacher, yet sometimes he feels like an _eon_ younger in foolishness. She has the _gall_to somehow make him act like an idiotic unseated officer of no power, a green academy student who has never seen the world, oh for- most importantly he is the captain of the 10th Division of the Gotei 13 and he, he has _bankai_.

…And yet he feels every bit like a small foolish child, and he knows he is not one. He. Is. Not.

He turns the corner with some aplomb, an air of finality- and then he swears he sees a violet haired shinigami just up the road and he immediately reverses direction. He swears that recently, no matter where he goes, he keeps seeing damned violet haired girls.

It is not right, it is not proper. He forsook all of these things upon entering the ranks of the shinigami as a genii and how _dare_ she come and set free this awkward, unmanageable side of him. He is intellectual and rational… except when around this _anomaly_.

Hinamori perhaps is an exception for these laws- he known her perhaps as long as his memory has began. And even Matsumoto, though he does not know how she does it either.

He breathes deeply as he arrives at the first division headquarters. Yamamoto-taichou called a meeting for them that morning, and he is early, and he is _together_.

He tries to forget about the night before.

He should know better. He is far too old for this nonsense.

_(And at the same time, he fears the fact he may not be.)_

_._

He sits there, in his spot, stuck between Zaraki Kenpachi, and Kaname Tosen's empty seat, and struggles to process what is going on.

Yamamoto is talking about hollows called arrancars, Aizen's new hybrid class of hollow. A few of them have apparently attacked Kurosaki Ichigo, and might have annihilated him if not for the intervention of Urahara Kisuke and Shihoin Yoruichi.

He grimaces at the intrigued bloodlust for anyone as powerful as Kurosaki rolling off Zaraki in waves, as well as the interested murmurs spreading around most of the table.

Kurosaki.

The human boy linked inextricably with- with-

A flood of images invade his head and at that point he loses all ability to focus in the meeting.

Kuchiki Rukia.

He frowns and mentally slaps her away and tries to reorganize himself to think of Hinamori and revenge and Aizen only.

* * *

She does not sleep anymore.

Her minds churns and churns instead; she stares at her zanpakutou and touches her lips in a numbingly endless cycle. Within it all she tries to separate fact from fiction; she tries to separate him from her, but she cannot.

For her head, it throbs, it _throbs_.

_Thump_

It's like a drum, its sound pulsing within her head, and whenever she thinks of him it rises to an unbearable ricochet of noise.

_Thump. Thump thump_

He's caught up too much in her whole her affair and she almost feels as if she's getting caught up in him.

_Thump_

It frightens her almost, this sort of volatile space she's made with him where they're both flying and falling at the same time, and she can't remember the last time she's felt so much like herself and not herself.

_Thump_

But he's oddly absent. She receives his letter and it tells her that he will be momentarily unavailable, he just has to attend to division matters, that's all, you see. But he isn't even there. At his division, she's been directed to the hospital, at the hospital she's directed back to the office… she decides to give up along the way and heads out into the first district of Rukongai. She's meant to be meant to be meeting Renji for lunch anyways.

She stares at the sunlight sending blinding glares of light off the snow covered rooftops, and feels lost in the lunchtime crowd.

The clouds begin to gather overhead.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

"Hey Rukia!"

* * *

Looking up and to her right, Rukia catches sight of him, and she smiles briefly as he bounds up to her. She looks slightly emaciated, and but once she notices that he notices- it quickly disappears. A sinking feeling starts to develop in his stomach.

"Where were you, you idiot? I've been waiting here for a while now."

She jabs him sharply in the ribs, but the motion feels weak, just like her voice. It feels affected, but before he can seize her on it, she disappears into the crowd. He starts after her, trying to keep track of her purple head as it lithely slips and weaves through the busy street. As he catches up to her, she pulls him off the street.

'Let's have lunch here. Your treat, 'kay?"

And before he can even open his mouth to retort, she ducks underneath a thick cloth flap to enter a small, if slightly crammed ramen stand. By the time he flops down next to her, elbows thumping onto the counter, she's already ordered. He quells his unsettled feeling down for she seems kind of normal... so shouldn't he act that way as well?

"I think it slightly shameful that nobles have to leech off poor commoners like me," he grumbles.

Rukia smiles brightly at him as she pours tea for both of them from a provided jug.

"Well you know what? I don't care. Hurry up and order."

.

"So, what's this I hear about Hitsugaya taking on your remedial training?" he asks casually, too casually perhaps, after he finishes eating.

All of a sudden, after a stretch of perfectly companionable silence, Rukia seems vastly interested in draining her soup bowl.

"Oh, not much," she says, off-handedly, "Ukitake-taichou asked him to and he agreed, that's all."

It's twice as casual as his opening remarks and it is far from a good omen. He remembers the emaciated look on her face while she was waiting for him on the street and shakes his head. Suspicion begins to grow.

"Yeah, I was wondering about that…" he folds his arms and frowns deeply at her, "Why is it him anyway? Sure, Hitsugaya's a captain, but seriously, what does he know about this kind of stuff? Have you guys even talked to each other before?"

Right. He's definitely broken the mood now.

He bites his lip as Rukia finally looks up at him. She pushes her bowl back and puts her chopsticks down.

"Yeah… kind of," she says defensively, "That's besides the point, anyway. He has the same blade type of me, so why shouldn't he be doing the job?"

"But it isn't it awkward? I heard he's highly anti-social, and come on, he's more or less a stranger… Sooner or later, he'll be prying into your soul and invading your privacy," Renji adds sourly, "This sort of stuff always requires that. And I heard he's highly anti-social, anyway."

Why the hell are you giving him the right to enter your mind?

He barely, manages to hold his tongue. He tries to cool it, try to leave it all behind him, but, but… Renji is irritable, and he isn't quite sure why.

"He's more than stranger, now, Renji," she protests, "And well... I've gotten to know him better. He's not just an acquaintance now. He's… He's…"

She trails off and she flushes deeply.

"He's what? What exactly have you guys been doing?"

The rich color in her cheeks ignites something in his gut. Paranoia creeps through him like a chill through bones, and the conversation with Matsumoto comes back to him too clearly. To think, that it is actually more truth than fiction, than he has thought it was.

"Well… um, a few sword duels, he helped me get back my sealed zanpakutou... um meditation…" Her voice takes on a slight evasive note, and again she lapses into a state of fluster.

She bites her lip.

"What else?"

Rukia doesn't answer and in the aversion of a gaze, he feels as if all his deepest fears have been confirmed. He feels as if he's been turned to stone.

But, her face pales to a ghostly white, and she exhales, as if giving up whatever game they've been playing.

"Look, I don't know. The past few weeks have been a blur. What else do youwant to know?" Rukia's voice sounds weary and tired, and all at once, Renji's anger dissipates.

He opens his mouth, You look like a train wreck. This whole thing sounds like a bit of a train wreck.

But he does not say this. Instead he sighs and looks at her intently.

"Rukia, what's really going on?"

She opens her mouth and pauses. In the flicker of a moment, he sees something vulnerable and confused, and when she leans, fractionally closer to him, her eyes soften uncontrollably.

"Everything's… everything's just-"

"Just?"

She pauses, and then shakes her head, almost resolutely.

"Oh… it's nothing, Renji… It's nothing. It's fine."

He wonders, if years ago, when they were so much younger, she might have told him.

* * *

_Thump._

His brown eyes are wide and warm and worried.

_Boom._

Everything breaks inside and she thinks this is the closest they've been since she got adopted.

_Boom. Thump._

It's too much.

_Boom. Thump Thump_

It's getting louder, and louder.

How is she meant to think, meant to explain with this drumming sound pelting against her skull?

_Boom._

She can't do this. She can't do this any longer.

_Boom._

When Renji places his hand on her shoulder she automatically flinches and leaps out of her seat. The room suddenly feels claustrophobic, as if the roof and even theheavens itself are closing in on her. Yet before she flees, she pauses midstep and waits, even if she cannot figure out why.

But within seconds of silence, she realizes the painful effect of years of adamant barriers and incommunicative words. She no longer knows how to talk, and she has shut him off so perfectly that he no longer knows how to listen. She feels as if she is being suffocated by her very own self.

_Boom._

Her reaitsu feels like it's spiking out of control.

In the blink of an eye, like a fugitive, she runs out of the shop, and this time, he really does lose her well and truly in the crowd.

He feels the instinctive flare of her spiritual energy, and it's messy, unkempt, and billowing out in a dangerous manner.

As he stalks after her, worry growing like a cancer, he realizes that it's begun to snow.

* * *

"Taichou, this whole past week, you've spent more time in this office, than you have this whole month."

Matsumoto, for once, hands him a stack of work, as if to justify her oncoming assault, and folds her arms in determination.

Hitsugaya manages to keep a neutral expression as he sits at his desk, pretending to be signing some forms.

"What," he asks, deadpan, "You'd rather I leave you in charge and have you take over some of my responsibilities as well?"

She rolls her eyes, "No. I meant more of the fact that you haven't once, seen her-"

"Who? Hinamori?" he interjects, almost relieved, "I'm going to visit her today-"

"For the first time all week, when before you were religiously visiting her everyday."

A pause.

"If I didn't know better, or actually, if I did know better, perhaps I'd say you seem to be feeling guilty."

He meets shades of concern mixed with grey with an impassively cool stare.

"Don't be ridiculous. Hinamori's going to be in a coma for who knows when, so what should it matter what I do?"

It sounds false even to himself, and it fills him with dread to realize that he'd perhaps prefer not to see her awake, not for awhile. He knows he will not be able to hide and explain what feels like treason to her cause.

"Actually, you know, I might as well have meant both of them," she says, sounding vexed. "You haven't seen both of them this whole week. Namely, Kuchiki Rukia."

He flinches.

Matsumoto's alert eyes catch this and her eyebrows raise slightly.

He stares out the window in response. It's snowing heavily, the wind howling like a devil outside and sleet whirls around in torrents so thick he can no longer see anything but a flurry of white. He tries to phase her voice out of his head, but it is persistent, and the possible sensibility of it bites into him like salt on raw wounds.

"I heard she came into the office this morning and you instead had one of the junior officers tell her you were at that hospital, and you skulked around who knows where. Is there really any excuse for that almost pitiable behaviour, especially coming from you?"

This time he bristles.

"It was bothersome to deal with her, I'm sure she'll survive without me," he says flippantly, "I have more important things to focus my time on."

"But you can't treat people and your relationships like this! People aren't here for your convenience! If you want to have any lasting relationships in your life-"

"What," he says scathingly, "Just like you and Ichimaru Gi-"

The intake of her breath is razor sharp and she slaps him hard on his cheek

The force of it turns snaps his head sideways, and he is numbed by his astonishment, trying to register what she's just done. The shock of it hurts, but it's a pinprick compared to the truth in her statements that are breaking up his already injured pride and leaving it in tatters.

"You have no right to say that, " she says, and each word is punctuated by an overwhelmingly amount of grief. "That was low, pathetically low. What would you know about anything like it when you seem so content in continuously warding people way? Is coming out of your comfort zone, is not being in absolute control every single waking moment going to kill you? What's it going to take?"

At the end of this outburst, something ragged escapes her throat.

She whirls around and steadies hers breathing.

After a sudden realization of their dissimilar statuses, he can feel her mental wince.

"I willingly take any punishment for speaking back to a superior officer," she recites emotionlessly.

For a moment there is nothing but tension.

And then he sighs and looks at her back.

"Forget it. I deserved it," he says quietly.

_._

A knock on the door sends them flying back to reality.

Matsumoto freezes her expression and tries to regain some semblance of normalcy.

Hitsugaya Toshiro tries to stop looking completely stunned by a chaotic dump of uncomfortable epiphany.

He calls, "Come in," and Abarai Renji comes striding through.

They relax, somewhat.

But it doesn't last long. The 6th Division's lieutenant looks shaken to the core.

"Hitsugaya-taichou, Rangiku-san… do you know where Rukia is? Have you seen her?"

To say that Abarai does not look desperate would be a vast understatement.

To say that he, looks indifferent would be a blatant lie.

_._

"Wh-what do you mean gone missing?"

It feels as if his insides have been twisted into a mangled coil of rope, a mangled coil of guilt.

"I had lunch with her," Abarai informs them tersely, "And then she just bolted. It was in Rukongai, just outside the gates into Sereitei. Myself, her brother, and Ukitake-taichou have been out searching and trying to send out scouts. But the weather's like a maniac right now, we can't send people out to search in these conditions any more, you can barely seen a thing! She doesn't seem to be anywhere… no witnesses, no anything. Kuchiki-taichou's just outside, we thought that you might know something."

After a rapid jumble of words, he looks up. Surveying Hitsugaya's blankness, an almost horrified look dawns upon his face.

"…Shit. You really don't know anything?"

It's not an accusation, but Hitsugaya takes it as one anyway, almost as if it's from himself.

He stands on tremulous legs and follows Abarai out the door.

.

Kuchiki Byakuya is waiting for the two of them outside in the foyer.

"I know nothing," Hitsugaya pre-empts, and averts his gaze- Kuchiki Byakuya looks distressed.

Standing in the building's entrance, he is suddenly blown away at how much the weather's changed since he last noticed. There is an cataclysmic storm taking place in the sky, and even for him, the weather is in a state of complete pandemonium. So smothered in snow is everything, that he can barely differentiate street from building, and so close is he to the outdoors, that he can now actually feelthe whirl of spiritual energy in every downpour of white. The sleet is saturated with latent reiatsu; there is so much snow that even he can barely control it.

It is so similar to his reiatsu pattern, after all it's of the same element of cold… yet… yet…

It's her, snaps his zanpakutou suddenly, Don't you dare even think it was something to do with me.

…_Hyourinmaru, _he breathes, slightly taken back. It's the first time the sword's talked in weeks.

_Not like you've missed me, _the dragon muses sardonically, and he can feel icy displeasure beginning to form, _This has been going on for far too long. Get a hold of yourself._

The blade growls, and Hitsugaya frowns.

Both Abarai and Kuchiki look at him in question.

"It's, it's-"

Kuchiki somehow perceives his thoughts.

"…It's my sister's, isn't it?" he says, and there is a shockingly amount of worry underlining his tone of voice.

This time, Hitsugaya slowly nods.

_._

_What am I supposed to do, Hyourinmaru?_

He cannot even see the end of the road, or even the rooftops of the buildings. What is he meant to do? How is he even meant to find her?

The dragon's voice is cool and almost sarcastic._ Deal with it. After all, aren't you the captain of the 10th Division?_

It cuts him, jaggedly, and he clenches his fist. After a few moments, his blade sighs in irritation.

_You already know. Just stop wallowing and remember. _Hyourinmaru's voice fades and he's left alone in his mind again.

Remember.

Hitsugaya stands there and stares at the storm of white swirling above their heads.

_Think, _he commands himself_, Think._

_._

…_She tells him of the feeling of her zankpakutou __**slamming**__ through her chest…_

_._

_"__**I don't dance**__."_

_._

…_"I don't remember how," she says, and it feels like some sort of dreadful epiphany…_

_._

…_the mirth drains from her face and is replaced by a look of awed, almost frightened respect…_

_._

…_Her eyes are shimmering, flickering constantly, filled with something that suspiciously looks like __**fear**__…_

_._

_She awakes, and something deep within her __**closes**__._

_._

…_"I first met her when I was caught out in a __**blizzard**__. She __**saved**__ my life."_

_._

Blizzard.

_._

_Her feet start to tap to some unknown rhythm, and there's no sun in the sky, or cloud, or anything and yet her hands still raise high above her head as if __**reaching**__, for something or someone._

_._

Or something.

_._

_He's just realized that his favorite training ground is not just his and his alone anymore._

_._

The clearing.

It strikes his mind clearly, and like the ring of a crystal bell, it's as if everything has fallen into place.

There are so many things running through his head, and the brutal honesty of Matsumoto, still jags him deep inside. The heat gnaws at him whole, threatening to consume, and he is torn between feelings that he neither can understand nor comprehend.

More than worry, and less than passion, more than intrigue, less than... less than-

No, far, far more than instinctive need more than physicality and fire running through his veins. It clenches his heart as if it's in a vice and all he knows is that he cannot stay here while she is out there. He needs to do something.

And although he knows now exactly where she is and what to do, he suddenly feels like he is the wrong person thrust into the wrong situation. There are other people who know her better, who have known her for longer, who haven't confused the entire meaning of relationship by stealing breath under stars and moons, who must somehow be more qualified than the person standing in his shoes.

But he knows he won't stay away. He cannot, now.

Determination, or perhaps, even desperation sets in and his fate is sealed.

He knows where she is and he must do; once again he's terrified... and yet confident at the very same time.

But he knows who she really is.

He knows and he's finally going to stop drawing lines in the dust of his mind.

Without a word he lurches away from Abarai and Kuchiki and as if in a race, breaks past the starting line of his office doors.

The snow slams like a bucket of cold water into his face, he can hear their calls, telling him to come back, asking him where he's going, demanding that he wait for them.

But there is not time.

As he lands softly onto the snow from the entrance's steps, he breathes deeply.

Something starts to pound in his head.

And then, he starts running.

He runs.


	9. Death and Dragon, White Moon

Dear all,

Happy 2011 :))

Okay, it's a week in, but the thought counts, no?

The chapter is long and I refused to cut- I really hope you like it!

* * *

Freestyler Chapter 8:

Death and Dragon, White Moon

* * *

Snow.

It's all that he can think of, it's all that he can breathe.

The white slams against his face, his feet sinks under landslides of sleet and like frozen tears it pour and pours from the heavens. Again the wind bites at his skin; it commands him to go no further and the sound filling his ear is like the shrill screams of _banshees._

Snow.

It seems like such a long way now. He thinks of Matsumoto sleeping next to the fire like a lazy cat, Hinamori knocked out in oblivious slumber; Abarai and Kuchiki Byakuya left in the lurch at the front of his office.

… Whatever gave him the idea that he had the authority to do this?

Snow.

Stumbling past the final tree, he collapses into the clearing.

It's as if he's broached the eye of the storm. All he sees when he looks back is a vision of apocalypse clothed in white. Everything, is being devoured by the snow.

For a moment, he's simply awed.

Sound has been suddenly muffled out- even the wind is calmer here. The snow fans out like a carpet around him and there is the crinkle of snowflakes beneath his palms. Numbed to the bone, he can no longer even feel the cold.

He stares in shock at his surroundings. The quiet is deafening, it smothers him whole, his brain feels barely operational after that trek.

…What is he here for?

His mind snaps to attention- of course he knows, of course. He's here to find Kuchiki Rukia. Once he finds her, he'll slay whatever's been oppressing her, annilihate it. He'll stop the storm- he knows how to manipulate it, after all. And then, and then he'll wake her up. She just needs to dance, and know she's dancing. If she can't remember, he'll show her. (he's a master at it, by now).

That's whats been missing.

_He's realized that she's been hiding all this time._

.

He sees her.

Something hurts like the stab of knife through stomach, and in the hush, something _weeps._

(he should have known better, really.)

.

Within this world, there are only blurs of black and white.

(no gray.)

He can't even see the sky for the whirling storm around the clearing. He feels like he's trapped in a glass dome. There's something almost unnatural about it all, as if colour's been treated as a mere stain to be bleached out. Black. White. Black. White. It's all he sees.

(perhaps.)

She flits through ground and air, merging time and space together with a elegant pirouette, so at odds with this monstrous reiatsu of pressure that is slowly building, building, building.

He can't even see her face, nor her eyes, but he knows- after all, for a while now, he's been able to recognize a Kuchiki Rukia when he sees one, from the front or behind… or even with or without sight at all.

Every twist of her zanpakutou controls the storm and lashes of her reiatsu whirl out like a cyclone. He starts to feel mildly suffocated by the heaviness in the air. Light-headed. Helpless. He always ends up being the observer here.

(well… at least recently. Wasn't this a place he once called his _own_?)

Again here she is, bewitching him, with her black robes, and white sword and some sort of damning dance.

.

The storm starts to advance on the clearing.

His feet start to get buried and it feels like a grave. The snow starts pelting his face like needles and now he swears there's something wrong with this place. He catches sight of faces in the flurry of snow, corroding to hideous jagged forms and he recoils not in fear, but in revulsion.

Instinctively, he unsheathes his zanpakutou, and calls out his shikai. He almost feels stupid- there's no one here to fight and yet he keeps feeling paranoid tugs at his life.

But, better safe then sorry. As he twists the snow, he vaguely remembers something about snowballs as he sees it manipulated back to water, then forth to ice. He sighs in relief as he conjures up a wall of ice, and he gets a brief respite of shelter. It's ironic, he thinks. This is perhaps the first time that having the same sort of blade has actually been useful; having blades of the same-

_Stop that._

Hyourinmaru.

_Not now_, he snaps, _Can't you see that-_

The flow of reiatsu immediately becomes stubbornly choked and as power flies out of his hands, Hitsugaya grits his teeth. He gave the wrong answer of course.

_I meant what I said. Stop that._

Oh for- perhaps, exasperated to the extreme in a bit of a desperate situation, Hitsugaya decides to match snarl for snarl: _Hyourinmaru. This isn't the time nor place for this._

Time, place- He definitely has no time for this. He needs to gain supremacy of this storm before it gains supremacy of him and then herand Hyourinmaru's complete lack of cooperation is not helping. He tries to move once more, attempting to create a platform of ice over the snow and swears when he fails.

_Do whatever you want, but you are lacking the rare semblance of rationality you normally have._

_We're in the middle of a blizzard!_ he replies tightly, _What do you expect me to do? Sit down and have a tea party? Look, I need you, and I need you now. Either that or you go find Rukia's sword and go talk some of this so called _rational_ to her._

_Don't taunt me. _The red eyes glint again. _Besides, if that would have solved the issue, I would have done it long ago, to save all this melodrama. You cannot, control this storm._

_I can. _Hitsugaya insists, frowning at his zanpakutou. _Why shouldn't I be able to? She's an ice-wielder, just like me._

_She is not,_ punctuates Hyourinmaru, and the dragon flicks his tail in annoyance. _Snow is while of the same element, a completely different disposition to ice_, boy.

Against all wishes, something nasty twists within his stomach. His previous plan, that momentary resolution, suddenly folds within itself and crumples. It seemed so certain just under an hour ago, and he just feels a little naive. What, swoop in and save the damsel in distress? From who? From what?

He gazes around himself helplessly. There is something definitely oppressive in the air around him, but it's mere feeling not fact.

Why is it that nothing he does seem to work here? Where are the use of tactics, and battle instinct, the sort of skill that got him into the ranks of the shinigami? As the snow piles up to his thighs, he jumps up to the tree tops and finds tries to find some refuge on a branch.

He knows what she's been struggling with. Why isn't that enough?

(and most of all)

Hyourinmaru speaks again and his whole body tenses.

(he doesn't)

_And besides that, have you not noticed?_

(want)

_It's not so much that she wields snow…_

(to know-)

His eyes wrench towards her and he hisses sharply because now-

_…it's as if she wields the moon._

(this.)

-there's no possibility of what he wanted.

.

There is a momentary pause.

(he just wants to make it clear)

_I'm not-_

_No. Not now._

The words sounds like heavy slabs of stone.

Hyourinmaru looks at him and it's as if there is an imperceptible amount of softening to his eyes.

Hitsugaya looks away.

He doesn't want the humiliation of sympathy.

_Okay_, he says roughly, _I get it. We're incompatibly different. Polar opposites. Fine-_

_That's not my point,_ interrupts Hyourinmaru, _You should well know that this isn't the time to be thinking about those sort of things. It's only going to lead to grief. Furthermore, it's not important at all whether or not your blades are the same-_

(It feels painstakingly important)

He tries to get a hold of himself.

_So why are you stopping me?_ he asks, _Why are you telling me all of this? Why can't I just do what I originally planned?_

_What? Release me out to bankai? You'll probably destroy her in the process. This isn't a battle_, Hyourinmaru says, and he says it like he's reiterating a very simple idea for the third time._ It's a have to-_

Hyouinmaru glances to somewhere behind him, _Oh look, here she comes. She can explain it herself, if she wants to._

With another twitch of his tail, the dragon disappears. The sword reverts back to a sealed state, but Hitsugaya barely notices.

.

"He meant me, Hitsugaya-san."

The voice is clear and calm and feminine.

His head snaps to his right.

It's a woman.

_It's her._

(he doesn't know why, but he just knows)

She wears a furisode kimono of pure white. Her sleeves float down to touch the ground like wings and the sashes are hued in delicate greens and pinks. Her hair is long, touched with lilac, and she almost seems too doll-like to be the manifestation of a blade that_ kills._

Yet when he sees her eyes, hidden beneath thick lashes he sees a weary maturity there that's almost cynic, eyes so different to Rukia's and so similar in their sadness.

She is stunning.

"Sode no Shirayuki," he breathes.

"My appreciation for everyone you've already done for Rukia," she greets, "I suppose you'd like a bit of an explanation…"

He nods brusquely.

She pauses, and then bites her lip.

"I first met Rukia-"

"-In a blizzard."

(He doesn't have time to be patient.)

"Correct," the sword's eyebrows lift up slightly in surprise, "It was the first she ever called for help. Her life was at stake; she couldn't control her powers; it wasn't something she could manage by herself. She was pretty desperate. She called, I came at once."

He frowns, "So… this is the same storm as before?"

"Yes-"

"Why don't you just save her yourself?"

His tone is harsh, but Shirayuki doesn't even seem phased. Her eyes flash with pride. "I can't. I lost contact with her the night she gave her powers away. When I saved her, I didn't cure the storm. Without me, she's defenceless... and now she's lonely. That_ is_ why you're standing here, isn't it?"

"Maybe."

His look grows more terse and then guarded.

Shirayuki's head suddenly cocks to one side in interest.

"What's wrong?"

Everything is.

"You tell me," he says, voice growing with annoyance, "I'm apparently quite unfit to be here...so why I've somehow been persuaded to keep throwing myself into this, I don't know."

She frowns, "That's not true… I don't think. Besides, it's not that you were thrown, Ukitake asked you to teach her, you said yes."

"But behind all that comes all of this!" he snaps, pointing a finger at Rukia, "I don't understand why you both think I should be here. Before, I didn't even know her. I''d never even spoken to her, nor had any affiliation, nor any intention of acquaintance. We're worlds apart! The only thing that could possibly link us is that Hyourinmaru is of a similar element to you, but now, I'm told that it holds no relevance at all!"

He finishes with his voice raised, fists clenched to the point that they turn white.

_"Tell me why you're playing with me like this."_

He can no longer figure out the attraction to her on that very first morning.

He can't even remember what he saw that touched him so deeply.

.

The sword regards him slowly before she sighs.

"… I'm not playing. I never quite foresaw you coming into the picture," she says calmly, "I didn't know what to do myself. Don't you see? The two of you are similar. That's why I think you're here."

"Well, I can't see any connections," he grits, "Just tell me what I need to do and I'll do it."

Shirayuki shakes her head.

"It depends."

"On what?"

"On how involved you want to be."

Want?

What does it even matter now?

He laughs at how ludicrous it all seems. By this point, it's gone far, far past that stage.

(he just wants to finish this and send it to its grave)

It bears no relevance anymore.

So he says, "Enough."

He says it like he means it, and he does.

.

Shirayuki smiles wanly at him.

It's almost as if she does it in approval.

"Wake her up."

"But what-"

The sword disintegrates into a shower of snowflakes at his feet, and he feels one melt against his cheek.

He brushes it off with the sleeve of his cloak.

Almost disappointed, he bitterly wonders why he ever expected the sword to take the form of a phoenix.

* * *

She's on a quest to find snow, and trapped within this prison of all this sand, she's fears she might be failing.

(and she's not sleeping, either. She's dreaming.)

Like an ocean the desert seems to spread out infinitely and like a tomb it seems to be collapsing in on her at the very same time.

(dreaming nightmares)

Her mouth is parched, her skin is dry and cracked, and it is as if her whole body is being baked until naught but charred ash and bones remain. She remembers a brief respite, this oasis, where it seemed that something might be possible and now she's looking for that too. But she feels like she's been stuck in this unbearable heat for an absolute eternity.

The sun beats down upon her flesh, the air flickers, rising upon waves upon waves of heat. Everything is dry. Everything is scorched.

(…or maybe this is reality... After all, isn't it the same?)

A mirage of green momentarily appears before her eyes, but when she reaches for it, it snuffs out like a candle into brown dust.

.

Thump.

It feels as if the earth is shaking.

Bam. Crack. Rumble. Crumble.

The ground is opening up before her feet.

(she doesn't want to go back.)

She falls into the gaping chasm and everything is deafened.

(she can't find it. She can't.)

.

When she awakes there's snowfall on her cheeks and something that is truly viridian- it's him.

Face to face.

She recoils.

Not again.

Boom.

Not again. Not again. Not again.

(It's getting louder)

Thud.

Everything seems to be going round and round in circles these days.

.

He's got to get back.

Every step he makes closer to her is like a ricochet of thunder through her head.

"What are you doing here?" she yelps, panicked.

Thump Bam Boom Thud Thump. Thump.

He's causing it somehow, isn't he?

The sound is driving her mad, it's driving her to hell. Every beat, hammers against her skull and all she knows is that he's stepped too far, crossed lines he shouldn't have-

Thud Boom Thump Crash Boom.

"Rukia,"

Thud.

Too familiar and too ironic and too hypocritical.

"Don't-" she snaps, "Isn't it Kuchiki? You haven't answered my question."

"I'm your mentor, aren't I?" he reasons, "You're my charge. I told you, I'd help you get back what you lost."

"Well I can't," she says," It's too late!"

Hitsugaya runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Remember your health report?" he says, "Perfectly healthy. You should be able to!"

Something crawls beneath her skin.

She can't figure him out at all, and it used to be her hobby to watch people on the streets, pick apart her human classmates inside her head.

What does he want?

A _freak sideshow?_

Well...

Thud Thump Boom

He's got one.

.

"That just makes it worse!" she cries, "What are you thinking, coming here-"

Thump crash boom boom thump crash thud.

She feels something like a blade within her hands, and on instinct she raises it, points it towards him and she almost feels satisfied when he draws his own in self-defense.

"Dance, Sode no Shirayuki," she commands, "Some no Mae! Tsukishiro!"

(she doesn't dance, she doesn't.)

Thump Thump.

A circle of powder snow forms above the rest.

(she did, once, maybe, but saying mere words rarely means anything nowadays)

She lashes out at him and then again and again.

He must leave, he must leave-

Bam Thud Boom Bump Bash Thump. Crash Thump Bam Thud Boom-

Inside her heart is screaming in hysteria.

_In fear._

"Tsugi no Mae. _Hakuren."_

* * *

He pulls out his shikai once more, and leaps backwards, barely dodging the blast radius. Anger is strangling his movements; it's a result of all these threads weaving in and out of each other, making a convoluted web- he cannot understand.

It wasn't meant to happen like this!

Her moves are wild and erratic- her blows and attacks are uncontrolled and unpredictable. Hair frayed, robes unkempt, skin dropped to sickly pallor…

She looks nothing like that ethereal thing in the moonlight he- (kissed).

And she seems to know what she's doing- what he saw on that morning so long ago seems like nothing, compared to the reckless abandon now.

But not just abandon, the cold fire in her eyes reminds him of Hinamori- Hinamori rushing at him with intent to kill.

Back then, he knew his role- he just had to disarm her. He didn't want to fight her. But now, now he has to hold himself back. He wants to call forth Hyourinmaru fully, turn the field glacial blue- he feels just as confused and distraught as she does_ he just doesn't get anything does he?_

Snow flies at him, he blocks it. She charges forward and he must have underestimated her because she moves like lightning when she wants to-

He parries, and attempts to disarm her, but she jumps back, too quick.

"You have your sword, don't you? You've got Sode no Shirayuki!" he yells, "Isn't this what we've been trying to do? Isn't this what you wanted?"

"You think," she says bitterly, "that _this_ is Shirayuki?"

Her sword looks to be in shambles, fragile like thin ice, grey like ash. The ribbon lies in tatters and even her hilt is cracked. He hears no whisper from the zanpakutou he so recently talked to. He pauses in his movement.

"Well maybe it is her," she says resignedly, "I wouldn't know. But if it is, it hasn't even changed anything, she's not speaking, I'm still like this… and I want it to stop!"

"Stop what?"

"I don't know!" she cries, "Can't you hear it?"

She cradles her head with one hand and then looks at him, suddenly wary.

"…What do you want?"

"Didn't I already tell you?" He fires off the words like they are well, well rehearsed: "It's simple. I'm here to help you get your powers back-"

She raises an eyebrow that looks completely unconvinced.

Her gaze turns stony.

"No, I _meant_ what I asked.

* * *

He doesn't answer.

She hits a tree trunk to her right in frustration. An avalanche of snow falls.

"S-simple?" she sputters, "If all of this was so simple, taichou… then try thinking about what you were doing this past week, or what you thought you've been doing at all! You've casually been 'away' for 'unexpected meetings and duties'-"

"I have had business!"

"But not all the time. Not the times you've 'coincidentally' found me, or the night you came to find me at the Kuchiki Compound."

He turns rigid.

"It changes, doesn't it? From night to day, our relationship. You do what you want when the moon's high in the sky, and by dawn, everything's just a shadow in my fingers that you refuse to explain. Is this all that eventually happens? Is there something _wrong_ with me- or even with Momo-san or everybody- you're infamous in Seretei for insisting to being called taichou like it's extra _comfort distance!"_

His blood starts to boil (he's just following what she started, right?) and he feels order and structure slipping through his hands.

"You know," she says slowly, heatedly, "It's almost as if all you do is _run away."_

.

He pales and then he shakes with rage because it's such a painful echo of Matsumoto's own tirade, and it feels like a double blow.

"Yeah," he says, "So you've got me figured out. I'm a coward. I run. But you know what? I ran all the way here, just for you. Are you happy now? Have you even got yourself figured out? In the past two weeks you've switched between personas so fast it's been neurotic!"

"What do you mean? With who?"

Oh she still pretends to not know.

"Your brother!" he says hotly, "Who else! You speak to him- no you don't speak to him, it's just a polite ramble- you never talk to him! He actually wants to know you, but all you do is end meetings as soon as they start! If you call me a runner, what do you think you are! You're a master at it, even more than me, and it just comes to a head when you- when you-"

"When I what?"

"When you start dancing!" There's an unmistakable level of grief in his voice. "It's like there's all these rules and boundaries surrounding you… all these secrets you'd nearly stake your life on to keep… and then sometimes you forget and sometimes you don't- and now…"

His voice turns sour.

He seethes. "I really am proud to say that I don't know you at all and I_ never_ will."

She doesn't say anything, but he can tell he's hurting her, but hasn't she been hurting him?

"But of course, that's, what I wanted," his voices rises on the release of words he's kept hidden for so long, "That's my answer.."

(this was what he planned)

"I just wanted to_ know_-

(never to say)

"-who you really were."

* * *

She colours. She feels pierced.

Thump Thump.

It's all gone too far.

"Well congratulations," she says aggrieved, "Wish granted! Don't you know? I'm right here! See this storm? This, is me!"

She spreads her arms out, and almost simultaneously, it's as if cavernous jaws of snow are rising out of the ground to cosume them both.

She doesn't want to say it, but the sound is getting louder, and louder; she feels not her own, and all her own at the very same time, and every single memory of all the callous words she's said and is saying swirls around like an ocean for her to drown in.

"It's my mind, it's my soul, it's every shameful part exposed- the anger, the ugliness; everything! Everytime-"

Thump Thump Thump Thump-

"I've been unconscious some off it comes out, and now you..."

Crash Boom Thud-

"You've got view of it all."

Thump Thump

All her memories are swirling through the snow, and she swears by the look on his face that he can see the exact same sights, hear the exact same sounds that she is hearing.

"You wanted me?" Her voice is low and dangerous and she no longer cares. "Well you've got me."

Crack.

_"How many more times do you want me to rip my soul out so you can see it bleed?"_

* * *

He finally sees what Shirayuki meant.

All these jagged faces are leering at him, circling around the clearing and he can hear snatches of memories not his own.

This girl in front of him hasn't possessed by the storm.

The storm has been possessed by her and _now she's unleashing it all at him._

He feels like his heart is being wrenched upon its strings. How dare she pour salt on wounds that haven't quite healed-

"What are we doing? Oh God," he cries, "If I knew, I wouldn't have asked, I would have said no without hesitation to Ukitake, and shunned you like the plague on the streets!"

"Well you should've," she hisses, "You could've run away. But-"

"I didn't," he grits, "And neither did you."

"Well I never thought we were going to end like this! I never wanted us to! I tried," she says, "I tried-"

Her words break down into hot, angry exhales and now after all of the meltdown, she can't seem to find anything else to say.

He no longer knows anything either.

* * *

She stares him down and he stares right back.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she wonders how far they've come from tentative smiles, and emotions they used to hide amongst mere perplexity, and then words they both so badly wanted to say but never said at all.

It's like a stalemate. She remembers that first day at sunrise which ended with both them looking at each other and not saying anything because wasn't it something like neither of them were ever going to give?

And now, look at them both.

They're saying everything they never said and more, more than enough, too much, she thinks. She feels so angry and then so ugly at the same time because every memory of hers is spilled out upon the snow and he's looking oh he's looking-

The terror inside her is ripping her to shreds-

Boom Boom Boom Boom

- but she's keeping her held up high because they are shinigami and isn't pride more important than life nowadays?

.

So she takes the last thing she has, (her sword which she will never find because- because) she takes it and smashes it downwards, right into the ground.

It splinters into a thousand shards and soon her hands are dotted with trickles of blood, stained red within a few seconds.

He's standing so close to her, he's getting splintered as well, and now his blood is mixing with hers-

Crash Boom Thump Thump-

His eyes are as intense as that night last week, but now she's not looking away not because she can't, but because she won't. The gaze she gives him is every bit as defiant as the gaze he gives her- they lock eyes and she ignores the pain stabbing her fingers and her palms.

* * *

He understands now.

He understands so much he's reeling at all the information he's tried so hard to ignore.

He wonders if he was a bit arrogant to think that it was only her who had any problems at all. For she's a hundred percent raw right now, completely exposed and she is so far flung from what he thought he thought he saw that very first morning. Red twists around her hands and skin, and she looks upset and broken and far more grittily real than he ever expected.

It's not pretty at all.

It's hideous and then it's tragically beautiful, all the exact same horrendous moment.

...And then he looks inside of him and realizes that really, no one is any different.

He never gave her an inch, even when she subconsciously gave him miles of herself…

It just makes him the biggest hypocrite of all.

.

There's a pulse beating through his head, beating through his bones-

-he just needs to _show_ her.

* * *

What- what is he,

Crash Boom Thump Thump Bang

He's taking his sword- he's taking his zanpakutou-

(he's breaking stalemate)

-and now he pushes it into her hands

Thud Thud

(her eyes go wide in shock)

-and his eyes never leave her face.

_._

"Take him," he says.

(she can barely believe what she's hearing.)

_

* * *

_

He barely knows what he's doing.

He can't even register the possible consequences of such a reckless action.

All he understands is this knowledge of these silly games they've trapped themselves to playing-

It's pure impulse from pure instinct-

And that he's going to end it now.

What more has he got to lose?

_

* * *

_

Thump Bam Boom Bump Thump Thump Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Take him," he says.

Boom.

Her eyes widen and she sees that he is suddenly as prone as she is.

Thump.

(She can cut him open, if she wants to)

Thud.

(He's letting her cut him open.)

_Shush._

.

When the sword releases its shikai, it's like she's entered another dimension.

She sees the dragon before her eyes, this gigantic frozen beast behind Hitsugaya's immense power and genius. And then she hears arguments with Matsumoto and scathing remarks, and a web of anger and hurt unfolds.

She feels colder than ice and emptier than a void, cynical then upset, selfish and self-centered, and she sees herselfbeing kissed, and then sees fireworks on a birthday night, on a rooftop, a grandmother she'll never know, and a so much younger, younger Momo. She sees kids playing in the dust, backs turned, she's the outsider- Momo in academy uniform, frozen over mattreses and talking talking talking by villagers who are so much crueller then they think.

Scathing remarks at Momo's academy report- stalking off, scowling at village children who turned away at the sight of her and then gossiped behind herback. Enrolling in the academy, finding out Momo was already graduating- and being labeled a genius so early, that people seemed to keep their distance out of awe and jealousy, and she encouraged it wholly because she didn't want to know them, did he?

And then there's the burst of watermelon in summer, Momo hanging up washing to dry, she feels a smile tug at lips not her own, and she feels happy then contented then- then a searing rage rips through her as she sees Momo laying in a pool of her own blood-

Nausea filters through her senses; she feels sick. There's Ichimaru (smiling, smiling, still), then Aizen-

And then her memories collide with his and she remembers both the feeling of his fist through her stomach, purging her of the Hogyoku Orb, then casting her aside like roadside trash- revenge, hate, hurt, pain-

She drops the sword.

Two different sorts of cold, of coolness; two different ways of pushing people away… but still pushing them away the same… He's frigid, she's desolate…

They're still both cold.

They're the same.

They're the same.

Her intake of breath is sharp.

* * *

His intake of breath is sharper.

She knows, he realizes, she knows.

The emotion tugs at his heart but they've ended up sitting on the floor, amongst broken shards and blood and sweat and tears and ice and snow.

"Maybe," he says slowly, "Maybe… we're not-"

"-as different as we thought," she whispers.

The silence crashes around them like a tidal wave.

She balks, he cringes.

The look on both of their faces confirm that neither of them were expecting this sort of aftershock conclusion.

* * *

Oh God, she thinks, these masks they construct.

They all construct them with the greatest care. They construct them to prevent anyone seeing this thing inside them called a soul, because they look at it and they can only see the filth inside... because they don't think that anyone would really still accept them, if they knew it all.

…And then they try to cover it up; they're all masters at lies, really. There are faces to avoid introspection, faces to protect, faces to get ahead and faces to to try and minimize rejection, and maximise acceptance. The Gotei-13, she's always known, has unwittingly crafted for its loyal shinigami these eyes of cool, cool pride… but even she was a fool for those elegant black kimono robes; she's been making it her main goal all these years to protect her inner self, protect it from scrutiny-

But by protecting herself, she failed to protect the relationships with the people she's cherished _the most_.

(she should well know that you can never have your cake and eat it at the same time)

...They're really not as lonely as they thought they were.

* * *

After a long, long while, she sighs.

"We need to finish this," she says.

"Yeah," he agrees quietly, "Perhaps."

He slowly stands up.

She looks at him in slight question.

"Trust me," he says, "You'll need me."

There's a trace of a smirk upon his lips, and as he holds out his hand, she takes it without hesitation.

(she's found her oasis)

* * *

He leads her into the dance.

He stands behind her, guides her into the first movement (he's a master at it by now, right?), takes back his sword, gives her her own broken hilt, and then-

(breathe in, breathe out)

_-he lets her go._

* * *

She does the dance exactly as she always has.

Finally, she makes it to the middle of the clearing and stops.

She raises her sword in the air.

"San no mae. Shirafune."

Her eyes turn to pure violet and there's a singing in the air.

* * *

The ribbon arcs in a circle as round as the full moon in the sky, and there is a sudden hush, because the storm has stopped and- and-

Shirayuki is back.

She traces her finger along a crystalline blade and she manages to hear the ghost of a smile.

She is back.

.

She glances at him, and she can't help at smile at his eyes- they're as wide as that first morning- and when he catches her looking, he doesn't start.

He shrugs, and unbidden, he smiles. There's nothing jaded in his eyes this time.

He can't be bothered with _pride_ now.

And at that moment, there's a serenity in a field that's forgotten the colour green in the midst of circling barren trees and frigid blue sky.

There's a serenity in a field of two people who suddenly know it's _their own_.

It's _theirs_.

.

Three seconds later, she falls to the ground.

Thirty minutes later, he brings them _both_ home.

* * *

This is the penultimate chapter- we're nearly there. :)

Thank you very much for reading again, and if you got confused, please tell me, I know this was a bit of a whirlwind.


	10. Rejazz and Freestyler

**EDIT:** hahaha, I reread this. I have a spastic tendency for long last author notes. I think that was enough awkward spilling! Jist of it all, thank you so much for reading. Writing this was exceedingly therapeutic as well as reading people's comments. Yes, continue to tell me what you think, I'd love to know and I always try to reply!

And now finally go and get your closure on Hitsugaya's and Rukia's little rendevous. : )

* * *

Freestylerutic

Chapter 9: Rejazz

* * *

Their homecoming is heralded by soft footsteps in the snow.

No one else is waiting. The streets of Sereitei are as vacant as they are silent, and the only soul to greet them is a sleepy Jidanbo letting them through the West Gate.

It's that precarious time when neither the moon nor the sun is in the sky, where the streets are pitch dark bar a few lamps still bravely burning. The stars have sunk into the heaven's inky depths: they don't dare shine and everything lurks in shadows. Right now, it's the no man's land between day and night and whether they like it or not, they're well and truly caught in it.

Rukia hangs in his arms loosely, fast asleep. Her fair falls down to softly frame her face. Even though she's unconscious, for the first time, there's a serenity in her expression Hitsugaya's never quite seen before… and he's _glad_.

So maybe this is why the thought of shunpo never crosses his mind once. So maybe it's not just the exhaustion in his bones, nor her dead weight, both pulling him downwards in a weary gravity with every step- maybe it's the fleeting feeling that he doesn't mind the walk…

Maybe it's the fleeting feeling that for once, he's not jumping at this quickly advancing idea of _closure_.

.

As Hitsugaya turns the corner, he senses a flicker of a movement, and a nudge of reiatsu at his senses.

He looks up and there's a large figure looming above them on the guard wall. Underneath the dim light of a nearby lamp post, he catches the reflection of a metal hairpiece. Two slate grey eyes start out at him impassively from the darkness.

Kuchiki Byakuya has been waiting like a watchdog.

.

The 6th Division Captain leaps down. He lands softly on the street, sending a spray of sleet at Hitsugaya's ankles.

His robes billow out and Byakuya's eyes widen at the sight of blood and cuts and wounds. A fist clenches; a jaw tightens uncontrollably.

The man moves forward as if to take Rukia from his arms.

"_What do you think you're doing with my sister_?" asks Byakuya imperiously, fixing a steely gaze on him.

Hitsugaya returns it with an equally resolute one. _"Healing her soul."_

.

Byakuya steps back, his eyes wide in emotions that are caught between anger then shock then surprise.

Byakuya's eyes lock into his own, and he can see the man searching for something, though he knows not what.

Finally, the Kuchiki stiffy concedes.

"…Where are you taking her?"

.

Hitsugaya nods his head toward the Fourth Division's hospital, just down the street.

Hitsugaya doesn't move. He waits instead, although he doesn't know why.

He vaguely wonders whether only a little while ago, he would have simply sliced the man in half verbally and brushed past.

Something hovers in the air between them, and again, Hitsugaya doesn't know why he's doing this.

He's tired, it's an unearthly hour-

"Nii-sama."

.

Both of their heads snap towards the voice.

Rukia.

He's dumbfounded enough to keep quiet.

The girl shifts a little in his arms. Rukia rises, and deliberately raises her head so she's making eye contact with her brother.

Hitsugaya can feel her struggle- the slight amount of tremble in her limbs, the tensing up of her muscles- but she determinedly holds her posture.

"Don't worry," she says, "He's done a lot for me, and he knows what he's doing."

Her quiet voice silences the tension, and both of them unwillingly relax.

Byakuya opens his mouth, but Rukia carries on.

"It's fine Nii-sama," she says, "It's fine…"

The last word comes out in a whisper, for her body finally gives up the breath, and she falls back into him, unconscious.

_I'm fine_.

.

After a long time, something unreadable comes into Byakuya's eyes. He doesn't say a word, but as Hitsugaya strides past him, the man makes no move nor objection.

Hitsugaya still feels that strong gaze on him, even halfway down the street, but he never once turns to look back or toss a final comment.

(Healing her soul?)

(More like she's healing _his_ as well.)

* * *

Rukia drifts back awake, though she barely knows it.

She feels herself being carefully laid down onto sheets and a mattress. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she wonders if she should say anything, but her eyes refuse to open; her body refuses to move. The sounds coming from her mouth are inaudible and incoherent.

There's a pause, and she can feel his presence bearing down on her.

But then she hears the thud of someone collapsing at the floor in her bedside, and she manages an exhale of relief.

She sinks back into a hush she hadn't realized she's been long missing.

* * *

The sun peeks in through curtained windows and Hitsugaya's eyelids flicker open.

He shifts, suddenly uncomfortable for having fallen asleep. His body is sore from sleeping on hardwood and as he rises, he sees that a blanket's been put over him. He grasps clumsily at the bed he's been leaning against and slowly stands, looks down… it's empty.

He looks around the room but there's no sign of her at all.

She's gone.

The air is thick with the golden warmth of morning and it drowses him entirely. The blanket clasped in his hands he lets fall slowly to the bed and then he follows shortly after.

He doesn't feel like doing much; the memories of last night flicker like echoes and the emotions are blurred.

So he lies there, sprawled and staring at the ceiling.

.

There's a knock on the door.

"Yo, Rukia?" The door slides open a little and Abarai's head pops into view.

The lieutenant's eyebrows raise, "…Ah sorry… I thought this was Rukia's room."

"It is."

Abarai averts his eyes as Hitsugaya swiftly sits up and tries to rub his forehead awake. The red-head lingers in the doorway, obviously a little uncomfortable.

Hitsugaya shakes his head, "… Where is she?"

"Rukia?" Abarai breaks into a babble, "Uh she's with Ukitake-taichou… Oh, we're going to the Living World to check on Ichigo. There's been an Arrancar invasion- I think you know? Ukitake wanted to talk to her alone… but I thought she'd be back by now. Anyway, she was asked to pick a few more people, so she picked you and me… You'll probably get the official briefing soon?"

Hitsugaya nods and then pauses- voices from the hallway just outside are beginning to leak in.

"Renji, that you? The nurses told us this _is_ his room… and Kuchiki's. How does that work? You asked him yet?"

He turns his head, "One moment, okay?"

"What is this Abarai?" Hitsugaya says suspiciously.

"Yeah," the lieutenant smiles sheepishly, "About that. I found the last team members for this mission-"

"Madarame? Ayasegawa?" Hitsugaya is not impressed. "Why on earth would they want to go?"

"Hey, what the hell! Don't talk about us like we're not there! Get your ass out of the doorway."

Abarai shrugs, trying to remain cavalier whilst deliberately ignoring the racket behind him.

"Ikkaku-san's been bored as hell with all this reconstruction work going on, and he swears that even during Aizen's rebellion, he just got crappy fights. And come on, you know where ever Ichigo goes there'll be trouble-"

"Will you just let me talk to him myself, damnit?"

Hitsugaya rolls his eyes, "That still doesn't explain his friend, you know the… the…"

Abarai suddenly crashes to the ground; Madarame's foot firmly shoved into the lieutenant's back.

"Ikkaku-san!"

"Shut up, will you- you're obviously not working."

His vision is suddenly obscured by a vision of orange and indigo.

"What? Androgynous one?" Ayasegawa's wide smile looms in his vision, "Don't worry, I can hold my own. Hitsugaya."

The man pauses, and then beams. He looks suspiciously pleased with himself.

Madarame sighs in the background, "Just leave it, Yumichika. Hitsugaya, just tell us if it's green light or red light for us- we're meant to be leaving soon, right?"

Hitsugaya looks blank. "Your brain finally run out on you or something, Ayasegawa?"

The smug smile only widens.

"Interesting, so it _is_ true. Kuchiki Rukia has mellowed you out-"

Hitsugaya sighs and stands up. With a reiryoku enhanced finger, he flicks a feather out of the man's ludicrous headdress and sends Zaraki's 5th seat flying backward to the ground. Amidst a shriek, he crashes into the far wall and Hitsugaya steps around a toppled Abarai, a bored looking Madarame, and heads out the room.

Halfway through the door he stops.

"Hitsugaya-taichou to you guys for the rest of the trip."

* * *

Rukia fingers Shirayuki's tassel as she lays the unsealed zanpakutou on the table before Ukitake.

They've been talking for a while now. First Ukitake-taichou telling her about the mission, about Arrancars and humans with far too high spirit sensitivity. She's relieved when he confirms that Ichigo seems to be all right, and all but almost too eager to accept going on it(and back to the Kurosaki household).

And then, he of course wants to know about what's been happening with her.

So there Shirayuki is. She glitters in the light, and Rukia shyly smiles- it's a small one, imperceptible almost, but she smiles.

Ukitake's eyebrows rise, "It's been a long time since I've seen her… She _is_ lovely, isn't she?"

Rukia murmurs a quiet assent.

"You know, Kuchiki, you impressed the entire Gotei-13 yesterday," remarks her captain, "Do you know how much area Shirayuki's blizzard affected? The _whole_ of Sereitei- it's all been overloaded with snow. There are teams trying to clear up the roads as we speak."

Ukitake shakes his head and chuckles.

He then cocks his head and almost slyly asks, "So how was Hitsugaya for a teacher?"

Rukia fingers snap back to her lap, as if suddenly caught red-handed. The melodramatic splutter that she used to do is on the tip of her tongue. But then she decisively puts her foot down and refuses to take the bait.

"All right," she says non-chalantly.

"Really?"

"Yes taichou," she deadpans, "Really."

He simply laughs at that, and then reaches over to pat her head.

"You've done well, Kuchiki."

* * *

"Toshiro…"

Hitsugaya's head snaps up immediately.

(…It's only Hinamori in the end, as always, who calls by his first name.)

Jumping up from by the window, he all but rushes to her side.

"Hinamori?"

How long has he been sitting there? It had seemed already about noontime, and he'd thought maybe he _should_ go find Rukia, but hell no- when he hears her voice, he knows it's the most important and only important thing to him right now.

He leans over far enough to see eyes that are dazed, yet slightly still, open. Unchecked hope begins to beat at his chest.

"You're awake," he breathes.

She's a little pale, but she's alive, and he swears he's never been so relieved in his whole life. Weight falls away from his shoulders, and impulsively he embraces her tightly. The familiarity bursts like warmth within his chest.

She feels frail, too frail- but she smiles like she used to, and it's the smile that's long been imprinted on his soul.

"Toshiro," she repeats, and he sees she's a little feverish, "It is you… right?"

"Of course," he replies, releasing his hold on her, "In the flesh. Who else would it be, you silly girl?"

She smiles at him weakly, and laughs. She tries to sit up more, but he stops her.

"Don't," he cautions, "You've been pretty badly injured-"

"Injured?" The smile slips off her face.

He can clearly see her tired eyes start flipping through memories. After a while, there's a desperate flash of fear in her eyes and she mouths a few words. She dare not say them, but Hitsugaya _knows_ she's thinking of Aizen.

Yet she resolutely says nothing. Instead, she plasters a brave smile on, even though she should know she never needs to do things like that to him. And she wouldn't _have to_, if that damn bastard-

"_even if it lead to her downfall, was she really foolish to admire her captain so much?"_

The words come back to him in an echo, and against his will, the tension in his knuckles go slack.

"Hey, Shiro-chan, you all right?"

_Don't ask me that. You're the one who's hurt, you're the one who _I _have to worry about, you're the one-_

Just looking at her fires something in his gut- revenge twists and turns around another emotion, and he's not sure what it is. It reminds him of _wildfire_.

But… for one moment, he lets it go. The war's going to come soon enough, and then he'll have his day.

He exhales and then folds his arms.

"…Don't ask me that," he retorts, "You're the one in hospital, looking like a corpse-"

"Ehhh? Hey! That's not fair!"

"What do you mean? It's true."

"Oh for- Toshiro, why do you even come visit me?" but she smiles anyway when he tugs at her hair.

Breathing in, breathing out…. It's not as hard as he once thought it would be.

.

"Really? Kuchiki-chan?" Hinamori's eyebrows rise up in interest. She grins teasingly at him, "Sounds like you spent a lot of time with her when I've been all knocked out."

He rolls his eyes, "Why? Jealous?"

"Of course not!" She huffs and blows her bangs out. "Not like Kuchiki would enjoy any of her lessons with you anyway. You're just like some crusty old man."

"But," she continues, "It kind of makes sense. You do seem a bit different, in a good way. If anything, I'm glad for you."

Surprised, he looks at her.

She really means it.

"Huh," he rubs his neck, "…Well get some rest okay?"

"I will!" she gives him the thumbs up, "Next time you see me, I'll knock you flat if we spar!"

He shakes his head, and amused affection creeps into his eyes.

"Whatever. See you Hinamori."

.

"She sounds like she's doing pretty well."

Hitsugaya looks towards the voice as he exits the room. It's Matsumoto; she's been sitting just outside- waiting for him.

"I guess," he trails off, "I don't know whether she was putting up a front sometimes, though."

He frowns, but then sighs and starts walking. As he watches Matsumoto's steps fall in line naturally with his, he remembers his little slash at her before he ran off to the clearing. Feeling a stab of guilt, he glances at her.

"Matsumoto-" he starts, a little awkwardly, "I… I-"

He fumbles around with words that he can't quite find.

Her head tilts in confusion, then in comprehension. She cuts him off.

"Don't worry taichou, I already know."

She looks to him, and her eyes are light-hearted and warm.

"I think Kuchiki-chan is back in her room, shall I drop you off?"

He nods slowly, "Let's do that."

* * *

She finally gets to see him.

Matsumoto pushes him into the room, greets her quickly, and then closes the door. They both crane their ears to hear it slide shut. noise echoes and then fades, and so does any hope of small talk.

Finally, he slowly walks over and then sits at one end of the bed.

For a while, they just look at each other.

_So._

* * *

"I've been chosen to go on a mission to the Living World."

"I know."

"…Oh, did Renji tell you? …I'd like you to accompany us as well.'

"…I know that as well."

"Ah." Her mouth closes.

He pauses, "…You really want me to captain your 'recon' team?"

"Yes," she says immediately, although her eyes turn into a turbulent shade that looks a lot like a _plea._

He shakes his head and wonders whether he would have ever refused. Well perhaps… a couple of weeks ago, she would never have thought of asking _him_, and he never would have thought of answering.

"Why not?" he runs a hand through his hair, tension releasing, "You'll need someone to save your skin when you start sleepwalking like a zombie. Or just even if you're awake, you're trouble enough."

She waves her hand dismissively, "Pittance, captain, pittance."

Her eyes change as she processes his answer. "Are you sure? I could still request for my own captain, or even to let us go without a captain-"

He places a hand on her shoulder. "It's fine."

.

"…Yeah, my only qualification really, is my relationship with Ichigo," she explains, "They want us to keep an eye on things, and make sure Ichigo, the idiot he is, doesn't get out of hand."

An unmistakable note of fondness creeps into her voice as she talks about the human boy.

"You miss the human world."

She starts, shaken from some reminiscence unknown to him.

"Miss?" she laughs, and then she smiles. "Yeah… I suppose, perhaps. But the dead should naturally, stick with the dead right?"

She sounds wistful.

He wisely chooses not to say anything.

.

"How far do you think this business will go?"

"What do you mean?" he queries, "Aizen's betrayal?"

"Yeah… Tosen and Ichimaru have both left, and now there's these Arrancar out for our blood," Rukia's voice wavers slightly, and she looks out the window, "I don't know… How far are we really going with this?"

She sounds a little tired.

"They sound strong."

He looks at her. "We'll be stronger."

But really... they both know it doesn't matter, whether they win or lose.

It's just the begining of a neverending affair.

.

"You're still angry," she says, and smiles a little wanly.

"You're still a little walled off," he points out.

.

"You really have Shirayuki back, don't you?" he asks.

"Of course," she says softly, and she shows him.

Hitsugaya runs his hand across Shirayuki's hilt and he can hear a whisper from her back him before it fades.

_You understand now, don't you?_

The night before comes back to him now.

_Maybe. They're the same. Snow. Ice. …Their own_.

He jerks and now, now he remembers every single detail of the whole affair that's now being wrapped up.

"Hey," he says, getting her attention, "These past couple of weeks… I know we didn't get off to a good start…"

He tries to gather some composure into himself.

"The way I acted sometimes… Well, I don't know what I felt," he admits, "But… it was childish of me, a lot of times."

He remembers hunting her down in very own compound, and taking it all out on her. He take a deep breath.

"…I'm sorry," he says quietly.

.

It visibly takes him a lot to say it, and her eyebrows raise slightly in recognition.

And she realizes what he referring to and she flushes.

"... Well, I'm sorry as well."

His gaze snaps to hers.

"Because, I was quite self-absorbed. And you know…"

She pauses.

"You're young," she says, softly, but firmly, "And nobody can change that. Age takes time. That's how we are… And maybe we're both young- too young. And maybe we were both too young to know who we were, or what we were doing, dancing on rooftops, and crossing swords and laying down souls…"

She drifts off and her gaze is elsewhere.

However, when she looks back at him, her small smile is reassuring.

"But it was great while it lasted, wasn't it?"

"...Thank you for coming for me."

.

And then the door slams open and amidst a call of warning from Matsumoto, Abarai Renji stumbles in as if he's just been running.

His eyes meet Rukia and then looks away to survey the scene. From the way he pauses, Hitsugaya realizes that the lieutenant feels like he's come too _late_. Again.

Suddenly gracious, and aware that's Matsumoto's been quite patient, he stands up and nods at Rukia. Abarai gives him a grateful glance. And for a moment, there's a lull.

Matsumoto and Abarai are both strangely quiet, as if they're hovering at the edge of a scene not their own.

What else is there to say?

So Rukia attempts a mock salute and smiles at him.

"Taichou."

"Kuchiki," he returns.

He nods at her, one last time, and then turns and leaves the room.

* * *

Epilogue: Freestyler

* * *

Somewhere in the Living World, the sun is rising.

Rukia stands on Karakura's rooftops and watches the night slowly recede from purple to orange and blue. Dawn starts its daily march across the heavens, and it's calling the sun out from its slumber. Sunlight fearlessly splays across her face, kisses her cheeks and tangles itself in her hair. As she looks up at the real world, the living world, she almost feels breathless. It's almost too vivid, too vast, and as she sees how the open sky seems to stretch on endlessly, she _reels_.

Something moves within her and she suddenly aches from the beauty of birdsong in the air and a vision of glory from the rising sun.

Oh, she might be dead you know… but oh how she feels alive.

.

_Hitsugaya watched on from behind the rest._

_When he saw the silhouette of Rukia on the windowsill, something shivered in the air. The moment Kurosaki's gaze met Rukia's, Hitsugaya knew he and everyone else were all just observers._

"_White moon, Black Sun," murmured Renji._

_The rest didn't say anything, but no one disagreed._

_When Rukia slammed her first into Ichigo's face, she glanced at him when no one was looking. She grinned._

_And then she was gone, flying out the window with Ichigo's spirit dragged unceremoniously behind. The room jerked back to life. Matsumoto and the rest started behaving like imbeciles. Forced to keep them in line, he grudgingly looked away from the window._

.

She's left Ichigo asleep, snoring like a log, legs flopped out on his bed. Kon she's distracted with an artificial Chappy soul in her body and commandeered them to be quiet as she creeps out his window. She could have used the door, but Ichigo's room is so familiar now, and Karin's a light sleeper, so she really couldn't use the girls' room now could she?

She likes the vacancy of the city streets, the slight whistle of a breeze through the air. The wound that Grimmjow gave her the other night still throbs, but she ignores it for now. All her life she's used to being a nighthawk, not a pretty little daybird. Being out in the sunshine like this is nearly refreshing.

So she heads to the park, because there are swings there, and it sounds idyllic enough to forget about the momentous occasions of the last week.

No more thoughts of Arrancar or Aizen, or Ichigo and the Vaizard, his Hollow Mask, the different isolated factions-

As she comes down the road towards the park, she pauses. An incredibly reiatsu pushes at her spirit, pulses, threatens to tear. She glances upwards, trying to track the source.

Suddenly, a silhouette moves against the light and the dark shadow almost seems, for a moment to be suspended in midair.

A chill overtakes her even though she vaguely knows exactly who it is.

_(He must be coming here to practice… or something.)_

.

He lands briefly on the far side of the park, before rising up again quickly. A hollow leaps after him, twisted arms and white mask hungry.

It's lithe and quick, and Rukia remembers it vaguely from her mission list. They never got to nail this one. Odd, that so soon after the Arranacar clash, a rogue one would come calling. He shunpos again and again, circling rapidly around the aggravated Hollow, calmly assessing the situation.

_(… he doesn't seem to notice her.)_

.

Strapped to his back hangs his sword, guard shaped like the north star in night sky, hilt wrapped in violet string. His hair bristles in the air, and flops across his face. She sees his body tense, and then like lightning-

He draws his sword and a dragon roars to life.

.

Hyourinmaru's long crystalline body is sleek and spined dangerous with ragged spiky scales. It curves around Hitsugaya in the shape of a sphere, blocking a blow from the hollow. There is a sort of violet grace in the way he moves, every twist of his arm, sending forth a raging dragon, snarling into the air.

Suddenly, he moves and strikes downwards against the monster and in a single blow, decapitates it. The hollow falls to the ground, smashing to pieces upon impact, and Hitsugaya follows suit soon after.

He looks a little strained, and she can see that the bandages snaking around his body, as if proof that no one was indestructible. Yet, even after the battle is over, and blood is opening a little from his old wounds, he still stands there, motionless.

After a while, he closes his eyes, then slashes his sword over his head. A flurry of ice petals form in the air above.

She can feel the roar of a dragon coursing through her bones, and the ice wings melded to his back seem almost fluid as he shoots up towards the sun.

(_He looks like an immortal)_

.

"_So, you know him pretty well, huh," said Ichigo, and he scratched his head, as if slightly bemused._

"_Yeah," Rukia smiled, "I guess I do."_

"_His bankai is pretty impressive."_

_She glanced at him, wondering if he was bothered. But Ichigo, always unassuming, merely shrugged. If it was fine with her, it was fine with him, and that's how his simple logic went._

_Five seconds later they went back to reading manga on his bed._

.

His moves are wild, and it's breathtaking, being so close do the scope of his power, and the force of his movements. The air quivers with every blast of ice, and Rukia swears that not only the ground, but the sky is shaking.

His eyes flash determination, and then a raw mix of a razor sharp intellect combined with an uncontrollable tenacious spirit. Every unbounded swing of his sword cleaves air, and hisses at mortality. He moves so fast, it's only such quick precision that he doesn't get incapitated by his own far reaching blows.

He crafts each flower carefully, and each one blooms with a delicateness that surprises even her. For one, short moment, she catches glance of his face, and she sees that his lips are turned upwards, slightly, shortly. She wonders at his memories, and wonders if this, is how he originally was meant to be like in the first place.

The boy who faithfully went out to do errands at his Grandmother, who smiled open-heartedly, who decided not to become a shinigami for fear of abandoning her. The boy who smiled more than frowned, who wasn't known so much for _acting too old _and making _too serious looks._

There is a constant oscillation,in his face- sometimes he looks so boyish, sometimes he looks _immortal_, sometimes he seems inextricably caught between the two.

His eyes are _filled_ with the exhilaration of flight.

It's as if this is he, this is his sword, and for one moment- that's all that matters.

When he ends, he smashes his sword into the ground and the ice shatters like an explosion

_(she suddenly understands why some people think he's the reincarnate of a ice deity)_

.

He hits the grass arms outstretched, landing one knee, and the football field trembles.

He's breathing hard, and his head is bowed down a little as he kneels, almost prostrated to her.

White hair. Short. Green eyes. White haori over black robes.

Captain of the Gotei-13's 10th Division: Hitsugaya Toshiro.

She shivers, but she refuses to avert her eyes. She knows the connection- she knows it by name, knows it by feeling, knows it till it's inscribed in her soul like fire and she isn't letting go.

There is so much _more_ to be done.

.

Suddenly, he looks up and he looks straight at her.

Turquoise meets violet.

Their eyes clash and for one brief, moment, neither of them back down.

He raises his eyebrows.

_You_.

Her gaze doesn't falter.

_Yes, me_.

.

_Breathing heavily, Hitsugaya rose up in the air._

_Evading another blow from Shawlong, he skidded backwards, and carefully observed his opponent's movements._

_Suddenly, he could feel the faint pulse of Rukia's reiatsu, and then see a white circle of ice shoot up to the heavens. Something screamed._

_Shawlong straightened and glanced over. His eyes were emotionless as he watched his ally's demise._

_Hitsugaya said nothing. But he recognized the move- it was her first dance, Tsukishiro, wasn't it? She'd finished him off pretty quickly._

"_So Di Roy's been finished off," his opponent mused, and he glanced back to Hitsugaya._

"_That little shinigami girl," said Shawlong, "She is wielding ice as well, isn't she?"_

"_It's not ice" Hitsugaya said coolly._

_The Arrancar rose his eyebrows, "It has to be similar. Are you related to her or something?"_

_He smiled briefly, "She was my student."_

.

"A bit of an overkill, don't you think?" she says, carefully stepping closer.

Her tone is light and there's a trace of impish humour in it.

He smirks back at her. "Well I'm not the one who's been standing behind a tree, _gawking,_ all this time."

"I wasn't gawking," she says calmly, "I was _observing_."

As she speaks she slowly unsheathes her zanpakutou.

She grins as her reiatsu starts to push against, and then merge with his.

Hitsugaya rolls his eyes and then sweeps his sword in an arc. Ice envelopes his arm once more.

He turns to her, and a half smirk slowly turns into a real smile.

He smiles, and takes a bow.

Rukia echoes his movement, and then he starts again with her.

Together.


End file.
